
LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 


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UNITED STATES OF AMEEIOA. 


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PILLONE 



W-A.^SI3DE SEEIES. 


PILLONE. 


FROM THE DANISH OF 

WILHELM EERGSOE. 


BY 

D. G. HUBBARD. 



LOCKWOOD, BROOKS AND COMPANY. 
1878. 



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PI LLONE. 


PARTI. 

TT is with names as with shooting-stars — they 
appear, shine, and disappear ; the great, like 
brilliant meteors, which leave lasting traces be- 
hind them ; the humble, like the briefly flashing 
messengers of August nights, for which one 
must search in the journals of astronomers to 
learn their magnitudes, their color, and th^ir 
course. Who was Pillone? Once a halo of 
glory illumined his name, from the foot-hills of 
the Apennines down to the Punta della Licosa ; 
every child knew, and every man feared him. 
Had the princely purple rested upon his cradle, 
he would have been a hero like Alexander, like 
Caesar, or like Napoleon the Great. As it is, 
liowever, with the starry heavens for his canopy 
of state, an old ruin for his castle, and a goatskin 
in place of a princely mantle ; as it is, he was — 
what this history shall tell. 


( 7 ) 


8 


PILLONE. 


The locomotive had whistled thrice. The little 
train which was to bear us away from quiet Rome 
to lively Naples, wheezing and panting, got in 
motion, and soon we were flying like an arrow 
over the vernal Campagna, greeting, as we flew 
by, the crests of the Alban hills, the arches of 
the aqueducts, and the bright green meadows, 
where the sturdy gray oxen stood shaking their 
long horns and glaring at the white wreath of 
vapor that trailed in a fleecy cloud across the 
plain. 

The coup6 in which I sat was nearly empty. 
A little dried-up priest, who used his breviary to 
catch the grains of snuff that fell in the passage 
to and from his sharp, hooked nose, was my only 
society. At Balmontane entered a young, gayly- 
dressed, and self-complacent couple : to judge by 
their new clothes and elegant traveling gear, a 
newly married bridal pair from Rome, setting 
out upon their honeymoon trip to Ischia or Sor- 
rento. The priest pressed himself into his soli- 
tary corner ; the young couple, after a fashion 
that, in our part of the world, would have passed 
for intolerably amorous, pressed themselves into 
another, wrapped in the ample folds of the bride- 
groom's mantle, and kept up a constant, tender 
whispering, now and then interrupted by a kiss. 


PILLONE. 


9 


that caused the priest to bury his nose completely 
in the leaves of his prayer-book. I myself occu- 
pied a third corner, from which I now admired the 
soft undulations of the Campagna, now envied 
my happy vis-a-vis, now inwardly grumbled that 
I had overslept myself and missed the early 
train, so that I should not reach glorious Naples 
till late in the evening. 

Suddenly the window was opened with a jerk, 
and a guard thrust in his head with the laconic 
summons, ‘‘Tickets, gentlemen. Each woke 
up from his dreams, and while the official was 
punching the tickets, the young Roman addressed 
to him a couple of questions, of which I caught 
only the word “Pillone,’' repeated several times 
in a whisper of anxious apprehension. The 
guard thrust his finger into his mouth, pulled for- 
ward the left cheek, let it snap back with a sound 
like the distant report of a musket, and then 
pointed With an indescribable air to the blue 
chain of the Apennines, to which the train in its 
steaming haste was drawing nearer and nearer. 
Then the window was closed again, and now, one 
would have thought, it became quiet once more. 
But no, quite the contrary. The little priest, 
with an expression of horror, let his well-worn 
breviary fall to the floor, and began with uneasy 


10 


PILLONE. 


haste to open a threadbare traveling-bag, from 
which, amid dirty linen, he drew out a couple of 
equally dirty bank-notes, which to my great as- 
tonishment he hid under the sole of one of his 
silver-buckled shoes. But the youthful couple 
threw me into still greater astonishment. The 
young Roman had become deadly pale, and 
stared out of the window with a look as if he saw 
demons dancing upon the white cloud of smoke, 
which the locomotive sent forth upon its track. 
The lady had disengaged herself froni his volu- 
minous mantle, and was in the act of unfastening 
a large mosaic brooch from her dress, when sud- 
denly, with a cry of terror, she swooned in his 
arms, and flooded the coupe with a bewildering 
chaos of pocket-handkerchiefs, ^tuis, snuff-boxes, 
and smelling-bottles, that brought her lover to 
the extremity of tender despair. At length the 
train reached a new station, and here a new sur- 
prise awaited us. Drawn up on tha* platform 
stood a file of those light, brisk bersaglieri ; the 
car doors were thrown open, and before we knew 
how or why, there sat in each coup6 two of these 
sun-burned, black-bearded fellows, who, with their 
short carabines and the waving plumes on their 
glazed sailors' hats, produced a by no means re- 
assuring impression. Again sounded the warn- 


PILLONE. 


11 


ing whistle, and again we rushed onward with 
the tempestuous haste of the lightning train, 
drawing nearer and nearer to the narrow and 
gloomy defiles, among which the train winds its 
way like a hissing, gigantic snake, now dashing 
out into sunlight, nOw again disappearing beneath 
the snow-white limestone masses of the shattered 
mountain crests. As often as we came near such 
a pass, the train slackened its speed, the ber- 
saglieri cocked their rifles, the priest repeated 
prayers from his breviary, and the bride buried 
her terrors in the arms of her beloved, while I 
cudgeled my brains to think what the word 
Pillone could mean, since in these three syllables 
the whole mystery seemed to lie. 

At last we had left behind us these narrow 
cuts, dark and damp, where a single stone rolled 
down would have been enough to overturn the 
locomotive, and a single musket ball sent down 
from the heights would have killed the conductor 
as easily as the hawk the dove on which Ae 
pounces. 

We had passed the boundary station, Ceprano, 
we had bade farewell to the last of the stately 
Papal gendarmes, and now were flying with 
furious haste through a valley luxuriant with 
vernal green, where the peach trees were in 


12 


PILLONE. 


bloom, and the vine was . unfolding its buds to 
climb the branches of the elms ; where all was 
bright, blooming, and full of life, from the clear, 
flashing brooks, which wound in picturesque 
curves through the well-tilled vineyards, up to 
the joyous singing population, who in their gay 
costume were busily engaged in pruning the 
vines, and sowing the yellow maize that was soon 
to stretch its giant ears into the air. Rapidly 
we went forward, with swifter and ever swifter 
flight. Behind us lay the wild, dark, ravine-clad 
mountain-masses, with their strange, fantastic 
forms and uncanny defiles ; before us, wider and 
wider opened the green and blooming valley, 
more and more irradiated by the sun. All danger 
seemed to have been surmounted ; the faces of 
the bersaglieri lost their watchful expression; 
the priest thrust his breviary into his pocket, and 
the love-sick bridal^ pair so far recovered the use 
of their faculties as to be able to rearrange their 
hfindred and one trifles, and to open a well- 
filled basket, which showed that they had not 
thought of living upon love alone. 

Then — just as the bersaglieri were laying 
aside their rifles — there rang out above all other 
sounds a deafening cry. The people in the fields 
waved their hats and shouted as if possessed ; 


PILLONE. 


13 


the brakemen clambered down from their seats, 
and glided like shadows past the windows ; the 
clamor and tumult increased ; cries of distress 
and terror came from the cars, mingled with 
curses and shouts from the attendants, and in 
the midst of all this infernal uproar, the signal 
down brakes ! ” sounded with such energetic 
vehemence that it was no wonder that the train 
came to a sudden standstill, wheezing and groan- 
ing like a racer pulled up in full course. 

And it was high time. Had we gone five hun- 
dred yards further we should have run straight 
into the wreck of the morning train, which lay in 
a confused mass of crushed and splintered frag- 
ments, hurled for hundreds of yards along the 
road-bed. Never shall I forget the sight which 
met my horrified gaze, as, in the dazzling sun- 
light of that spring morning, I walked along be- 
. side the wreck. The locomotive stood literally 
on its head, the broken chimney deep buried in 
the ground, while on the hind wheels hung the 
fragments of the tender, whose freight of coal 
lay scattered far and wide in every direction. 
Then followed the train itself. It looked — aye, 
how did it look.? Most like a row of japanned 
Nuremberg boxes, which the might of the steam 
giant, had , driyen into one another, tumbled over 


14 


PILLONE. 


one another, crushed upon one another, broken 
up, ground, and splintered ipto a horribly pul- 
verized mass of shapeless, torn, and ragged 
fragments. Everywhere, as if rained down from 
heaven, lay splinters of glass, pieces of door- 
frames, car-couplings, and bits of machinery ; 
everywhere broken axles, broken wheels, rent 
timbers, and trucks of freight cars ; everywhere 
destruction, death, and desolation. And all this, 
to the very smallest detail,, lighted up by the 
dazzling sun of a bright spring morning, — most 
heartily did I congratulate myself on my seven- 
sleeper nature. 

Of the passengers who had been in the train 
not one was to be seen. The baggage stood 
piled up along the track, and was guarded by 
bersaglieri, who gave me no other explanation 
than that an accident had happened, which as- 
suredly was somewhat superfluous information. 
Not till I reached the shattered locomotive, did 
I notice a man who sat on the bank of the ditch, 
busily sketching the scene. He was yet in his 
best years, with sunburned and strongly-marked 
features, whose upper portion was shaded by a 
conical felt hat, which, in conjunction with a 
portfolio that stood near him, pointed him out as 
an artist. 


PILLONE. 


15 


Herein, indeed, lay nothing remarkable ; some- 
what strange, however, it certainly was, that he 
should be sketching, though he carried his left 
arm in a sling, and a plaster of considerable size 
stretched obliquely across his forehead. 

‘‘Were you in the morning train asked I, 
as I looked over his shoulder, and saw a well- 
executed sketch of the whole catastrophe. 

“Yes,’' replied he without turning, “unluckily 
I did not oversleep myself.” 

At the same moment I recognized the voice. 
It was Turminoff, a Russian painter, with whom 
I had -daily taken my meals at the “ Quattre Na- 
zione,” a well-known artist-restaurant at Rome. 

“ How is it possible you can have the calmness 
to sketch so frightful a scene when you yourself 
were in the midst of the calamity ? ” 

Turminoff rose, threw the sketch aside, and 
warmly pressed my hand. The tears stood in 
his eyes ; he did not weep, but in spite of all his 
efforts, drop after drop trickled down his bronzed 
cheeks and disappeared in his bushy beard. 

“ I am a child,” said he ; “I thought I was 
calm, but I see now that my hand has trembled. 
You should have heard the crash as these forty 
cars thundered into each other. It seemed as if 
the earth under us were bursting. It makes one 


i6 


PILLONE. 


somewhat nervous, and now, when I see the first 
familiar face, and feel that, except a couple of 
slight scratches, I am completely unhurt, I begin 
to realize what a fate I have escaped.” 

Reopened his portfolio, laid the sketch in it,* 
and whispered in a voice almost choked with emo- 
tion, It is for my wife. I left her behind ^ith 
three children in Riga ; I mean she shall know 
what one may come to see in la bella Italia.” 

With these words he stood up. I helped him 
to throw his mantle about his shoulders, and now 
he was again himself, the genial, youthful-hearted 
Turminoff, with the frank smile and the manly 
bearing, whom, since our excursions among the 
mountains and in the Roman Campagna, I knew 
so well. 

How did this frightful disaster come about ? ” 
asked I after a pause. • * . 

‘‘How!” cried he; “do you not then know 
what even the simplest peasant-child fully under- 
stands ? Step this way, and I will show you how 
it came about.” 

He drew me to the overturned locomotive, bent 
down under it, and continued, as he pushed a 
little aside the upturned earth : “ Do you see 
this rail which is torn wholly loose from its con- 
nection with the sleepers ? Can you see that it 


PILLONE. 


17 


is filed through as smoothly as though cut with 
a knife ? This let the engine down so that the 
cow-catcher was driven under the sleeper ahead, 
and of course the engine could not but be over- 
turn'ed; there was no other possibility, and if 
you wish to know whether the result was de- 
signed, look at the telegraph poles yonder/’ 

I looked down the track, and now first saw 
that the wires had been cut all along the line. 
As far as my eye reached I saw only the bare 
poles, from which the wires hung down like 
mourning-weeds at a funeral. 

Who has been fiendish enough for this enor- 
mity.?” 

Turminoff looked at me with wide-eyed aston- 
ishment. If I did not know better,” he said, 
‘‘I should think you had either fallen directly 
from the moon, or at least only yesterday arrived 
from your native land. Have you then never 
heard of Pillone .? ” 

I related to Turminoff my experience in the 
coupe, and what an effect Pillone’s name had 
upon the Italians present ; but further than that, 
confessed that I had never heard this name, much 
less suspected its fateful influence. 

Turminoff shook his head. That comes of 
living in Rome, where the doings of the brigands 
3 


i8 


PILLONE. 


are as carefully concealed as is every murder 
within the walls of the Holy City. Pillone is a 
king who rules without restriction from the Cam- 
pagna to tlxe farthest jagged peaks of Monte San 
Angelo. Now he breaks out in the midst of the 
rocky valleys of the Volscian Hills, and now all 
trace of him is lost among the desolate crater- 
chasms of Vesuvius ; now he shoots down like an 
eagle from the heights of CamMdoli ; now he cuts 
off communication between Castellamare and the 
bay of Amalfi ; now he entices the gendarmes 
and bersaglieri into the malarious swamps of 
Terracina, while he himself, quite at his ease, 
plunders a party of rich Englishmen among 
the temple-ruins of Paestum. He is in one word 
a robber, perhaps the most capable that Italy 
ever has had, beside whose forced marches even 
those of the great Napoleon himself shrink into 
clumsy movements of baggage.” 

‘‘You have been plundered, then, in the bar- 
gain.?” cried I, horrified. 

“ Plundered ? my dear friend, of what are you 
thinking .? Do you suppose that Pillone troubles 
himself about an artist’s traveling-bag.? Only 
look along the track. . All the passengers’ bag- 
gage stands there in orderly arrangement. The 
trunks are a little crushed, it is true, but not a 


PILLONE. 


19 


piece is missing, and when the train from Na- 
ples comes, every passenger will receive what 
belongs to him.’' 

‘^What then was the object of this desperate 
deed.?” 

‘^Twofold,” was Turminoff’s reply: '‘First, to 
show to the population of this region what Pil- 
lone can do on a spot where everything was 
thought secure, and in most perfect order. He 
might have chosen one of the narrow passes in 
the Volscian Hills where two men would have 
sufficed to stop the train, and where flight into 
the hills would have been as easy as safe. But 
what would that have been for Pillone .? The 
very simplest of bandits could have accomplished 
that. No ! here, in the midst of a populous val- 
ley, near a station that bristled with bersaglieri, 
and far removed from the safe refuge of the hills, 
here Pillone has wished to show what forces he 
has at his disposal, and what lengths he can go, 
in carrying out his designs.” 

“And. he carried off absolutely nothing.?” 

“A mere bagatelle. The morning train was 
bringing three hundred thousand scudi in gold, 
which were packed in two small barrels. It was 
a sum which the house of Tortonia and Spnda 
owed to the banker Merle, in Naples. Nothing 


20 


PILLONE. 


else whatever is missing, but those two kegs. 
The whole is an old debt, which Pillone has paid 
to-day with interest, to his wealthy friends.'' 

‘'How so.?" 

“ Ah ! the story really dates back to the year 
before last, and the banker Merle had certainly 
entered the transaction on the record of things 
forgotten : but such a book, Pillone knows not. 
You see, the connection is this. By an unusu- 
ally vigorous effort, the authorities had succeeded 
year before last in isolating Pillone with a few 
faithful followers from his own band, and had 
completely surrounded him on the naked and 
desolate Monte San Angelo. Pillone's position 
was desperate. Day by day, he saw his pro- 
visions vanishing, and whereas he had before 
paid the peasants twenty lire for a large loaf, 
and one hundred lire for a cask of wine, now 
he had to pay five-fold, since the authorities had 
issued the very sensible order that every peasant 
who was found with more than a pound of 
provisions at more than a quarter of an hour’s 
distance from his dwelling, should be instantly 
shot. Under these critical circumstances, Pillone 
wrote to the banker Merle a letter which is very 
characteristic of the conditioi; of southern Italy. 
In this, he promised that so long as he ruled the 


PILLONE. 


21 


Neapolitan, Apulian, and Sorrentine districts, he 
would at all times and in all ways protect all 
property, whether real estate or consignments 
of merchandise, belonging to the house of Merle, 
in Naples, or in any way connected with them. 
As consideration, he demanded the immediate 
payment of fifty thousand francs, which, however, 
were to be delivered to him only as a loan paya- 
ble in three years without interest. The banker 
Merle was too good a business man not to 
comprehend at once the extraordinary advan- 
tages which this letter of safe-conduct would af- 
ford to him and his business friends ; but he was 
at the same time too much of a Neapolitan to 
make use of the opportunity, and as he was 
informed through the government of Pillone's 
desperate position, he refused the offer with 
contempt. Two days after, he received a reply 
in which Pillone said that he would take him, 
dead or alive, wherever he found him; and on 
the third day, through the negligence of a gen- 
darme on* guard, he escaped to Amalfi, where 
he completely vanished. For several months 
nothing was heard of him and his bands, so 
that many asserted he was gone to Dalmatia to 
take part in the insurrection there, and during 
all this time the rich and powerful banker lived 


22 


PILLONE. 


in a continual terror which did not permit him 
to go outside Naples. In vain he placed large 
sums at the disposal of the police, in vain these 
sent out their spies and their agents: Pillone 
was not to be found, and at last th^ banker him- 
self began to share the views of those who 
declared him dead. 

‘‘Vesuvius had for a long time maintained as 
unbroken quiet as Pillone ; but in the month 
of June some black clouds of smoke began to 
announce mischief from the crater, and in Sep- 
tember, people were looking every day for one of 
those eruptions which always attract thousands 
of strangers to the hotels of Naples. The banker 
Merle had distinguished company. A rich Eng- 
lishman, with whom the house had long had 
relations, was, with his family, installed as a 
guest in Merle’s palace. An excursion had been 
planned to the observatory, to visit the renowned 
geologist, Palmieri, and not far thence a tent 
had been erected in a little valley of the crater, 
where the gentlemen of finance, after having 
conferred upon science the honor of their atten- 
tion, proposed to partake of a sumptuous meal. 
Everything had gone off happily and well, till 
they* were approaching the valtey where the 
tent was set up. Here the banker saw at the 


PILLONE. 


23 


entrance a group of armed peasants ; as, how- 
ever, they were all well-dressed, and professed 
to have come together only for some quail-shoot- 
ing, his suspicions were quieted, the more that 
he saw among them one and another of his own 
tenants. The meal began, and had just pro- 
gressed as far as the oysters, when suddenly the 
curtain of the tent was pushed aside, and a young 
man entered in the elegant uniform of the cara- 
bineers. ‘Captain Pillone invites himself to 
lunch with the banker Merle,' said he, with a 
voice which was not without an expression of 
irony. ‘He hopes that the honored guests will 
not permit themselves to be disturbed in their 
appetites, and begs only a single messenger, who 
shall convey, under safe escort, this order, which 
he hopes the honorable banker will sign, to his 
house in Naples.' With these words he presented 
to the astounded banker a draft for a hundred 
thousand francs, and at the same moment a troop 
of silent, well-armed men thronged into the 
tent, where without ceremony they took their 
places between the banker and his guests, and* 
addressed themselves boldly to the dainty viands. 
The consternation was general, but banker 
Merle was too good a host not to know what he 
had to do. He signed the order, bade his nephew 


24 


PILLONE. 


accompany the man selected by Pillone, and, 
when the meal had been despatched, they parted 
like the best friends in the world, to betake 
themselves the one to his palace, the other to 
the pathless defiles of the mountains. 

‘‘The plan on Pillone’s part had been laid with 
great cunning, and it had been carried out with 
a boldness that bordered close upon impudence, 
when one considers that two railroads, with a 
completely equipped telegraph system, and strong 
posts of gendarmes at every station, encompass 
the foot of the mountain. If, however, Pillone 
acted boldly, the banker Merle met him with 
genuine Neapolitan shrewdness. The banker 
could take for granted that the telegraph line 
would have been deranged by Pillone’s confeder- 
ates, and this assumption, too, afterward showed 
itself correct. But he knew at the same time 
something else which Palmieri had just confided 
to him, and of which Pillone had no suspicion. 
He knew, namely, that a special underground 
line had been laid from the observatory to 
Naples, meant exclusively for scientific use in 
connection with the eruptions of Vesuvius. By 
this means, he was able to send without a mo- 
ment’s delay one despatch to the banking-house, 
and a second to the police, whereby all Pillone’s 


PILLONE. 


25 


plans were frustrated. His confederates were 
thrown into prison at Naples, the money was 
not paid, and instead of receiving the expected 
gold-pieces, Pillone was astonished to find him- 
self surrounded on all sides, for the first time in 
his life fairly taken by surprise, and at last, des- 
perately wounded, with the loss of most of his 
people, obliged to seek a pitiful refuge with one 
of his friends. From this moment Pillone swore 
undying vengeance against the banker. You 
have seen to-day how he has kept his word.” 

‘‘But, Turminoff,” cried I, laughing, “if I did 
not know better, I should believe you yourself 
belonged to Pillone’s band, so fully are you 
initiated into all his secrets.” 

“I am not in the habit of boasting,” calmly 
replied Turminoff, “but had Pillone known that 
I was on the wrecked train to-day, this frightful 
catastrophe would not have occurred, or, if it 
must have taken place, I should have received a 
warning in time.” 

I looked with wonder at Turminoff, who with 
his usual calm manner went on, “ What do you 
really want here ? As long as the telegraph line 
is in disorder, the road is anything but safe, and it 
is by no means certain that you will come off as 
fortunately as I ; besides, we cannot expect an 
4 


26 


PILLONE. 


extra train from Naples in less than four hours at 
the earliest, or, in other words, you will arrive in 
Naples in pitch darkness, when you will hardly 
find a porter, let alone a hack for your baggage. 
Take my advice, therefore, and come with me. 
In an hour we can get back to Ceprano, and in 
two or three hours be up on Monte Casino, 
yonder, of which you are in any case bound to 
take a view. Your trunk you can send on to 
Naples, and follow it yourself to-morrow. When 
we have rested up yonder, eaten in the refectory, 
and have a bottle of the monks’ noble wine before 
us outside on our veranda, I can tell you, per- 
haps, something more of my friend, Pillone.” 


PILLONE. 


27 


PART II. 

^ I ^HE evening was bright and starry; the 
golden sickle of the moon hovered high 
overhead in the ether-clear air above the peaks 
of the Apennines, while within it was visible 
the unillumined portion of the disc, like a dark 
brown acorn in a cup of pure gold. Deep under 
our feet swam, in long streaks, light, silver-gray 
clouds, and between them the lower mountain 
masses thrust forth their angular, myrtle-clad 
rocks, from which the song of the nightingales 
came up to us like a muffled chorus of fairies. 
Above our veranda, the delicate, just developed 
foliage of the vine quivered in the warm evening 
breeze, and far, far out yonder in the distance 

we saw mirrored the slender silver streak of the 

% 

moon ; it was the Mediterranean, that here flung 
its waves against the rock-bound coast of Gaeta. 
Before us sparkled the noble convent wine, and 
below from the valley we heard the last linger- 
ing tones of the church-bells of Ceprano. It was 
an evening full of the wonderful beauty of the 
South ; the very air breathed of romance. Tur- 


28 


PILLONE. 


minoff filled the glasses, lighted a cigarette, and, 
while the smoke rose in blue rings high above 
the lattice-work of the veranda, he gave me the 
following history : 

Two years ago I was for the first time in 
Naples. It was in the month of June. Summer 
had already spread its dazzling brilliancy over 
this glorious city, the rich, many-colored life of 
whose people develops itself with greatest luxuri- 
ance precisely at the season when strangers are 
not there. I was taken fairly captive by all the 
new and the wonderful that met my eye, from • 
the view across the azure blue of the bay, with 
the smoking Vesuvius in the background, to the 
little ragged beggar children, who, with the lively 
glow of business enterprise in their coal-black 
eyes, arranged the stumps of cigars fished up 
from the street with the view of setting up on 
the corner an extemporized tobacco-stand. Every 
evening I saunte;"ed with my sketch-book under 
my arm — now along the harbor, now up the 
quaint and narrow streets, now down to Santa 
Lucia, whose brown fishermen and picturesque 
booths offered me a superabundance of motives. 
One afternoon, as I was passing in front of the 
little church of Santa Lucia, which is dedicated to 


PILLONE. 


29 


the patron saint of fishermen, my attention was 
excited by a gay procession, which, with music and 
banners, was moving in carts down toward Chiaja, 
escorted by a curious crowd, who gave loud ex- 
pression to their admiring interest. It was a 
young bridal pair from Posilippo, who had just 
received a blessing upon their marriage union in 
the little church, and who now, accompanied by 
relatives and friends, amid cracking of whips, 
loud singing, and shouting, took their way down 
the smooth lava flags toward their home as fast 
as their jingling horses could trot. Soon the 
whole was but a cloud of dust that lost itself on 
the road to Posilippo ; but the singing had been 
so jubilant, the voices had sounded so joyous, 
that I fejt myself at once attracted. Without 
giving myself much account of my motives, I 
began to advance along the road which follows 
this side of the gulf. Fortune favored me, for 
when I had passed the ruins of the fallen palace 
of Queen Johanna, I again became aware of the 
same joyous voices, and saw the last of the high- 
wheeled carts unloading its numerous passen- 
gers, who speedily vanished down a rocky path 
toward the beach. 

Seldom haye I seen a more picturesque view 
than that which here met my eye, as I reached 


30 


PILLONE. 


the little rocky descent, that wound zigzag down 
the steep cliffs to reach the rocky strand, the 
goal of the festive bridal pilgrimage. On the 
left lay the dark masses of the ancient castle 
of Queen Johanna, and the dark blue waves 
rolled now in light melodious rhythm, where once 
the princely gondolas were moored, and the mail- 
clad halberdiers mounted guard. On the right 
ran out a long and narrow tongue of land, thickly 
strewn with rocky fragments of most eccentric 
form, and ending with a line of foam, which be- 
trayed the fact that the reef continued far out 
under the clear blue waters of the gulf. At the . 
head of this bay lay a couple of fishermen’s huts, 
half hollowed out of the face of the cliff, half 
built of the fragments that had rolled down from 
it, and close beside them had been erected a 
tent, consisting of several of those great lateen 
sails which belonged to the fishing-boats anchored 
in the bay. The sails had on one side been 
secured to the roofs of the huts, and toward the 
sea were supported by a heavy mast, which was 
gayly decoraterd with foliage and flowers ; while 
many-colored lamps, the glare of the hearth-fires 
in the huts, and a blazing fire on a projecting 
point of rock, told-ofthe festivity in preparation. 
At first I paused on the road above to throw off 


PILLONE. 


31 


a hasty sketch of the gay life stirring below ; but 
gradually, as the shadows of evening dusk came 
down, as the gay lamps and fires increased in 
variety and brilliancy, I became bolder, the more 
as one fishing-boat after another, all full of guests 
and lookers-on, landed in the bay, so that I could 
mingle unnoticed in the gathering throng. At 
length I had reached the spot I wished. I sat half 
hidden by' a projecting mass of rock, at my right 
the bonfire, whose ruddy, flaring blaze threw its 
changing gleam over the groups that had formed 
before m^e. Huge dishes of steaming niaccaroni 
were handed about among the noisy guests ; fish, 
and other products of the sea stood heaped upon 
the tables between fruits and , vegetables ; the 
wine was brought up in large wicker flasks from 
its dark underground hiding-places, and soon the 
company formed a wildly revelling mass, in which 
guests and spectators were no longer to be dis- 
tinguished. But what figures, what splendid 
forms moved before me ! Young, laughing, and 
chatting women ; olS, wrinkled matrons, whose 
gaudy finery brought out more strongly the in- 
firmities of age ; ragged and half-naked children, 
^ who, with the license of youth, prowled about 
under the tables to make prize of a peach that 
had rolled down, or a stray slice of melon ; men 


32 


PILLONE. 


SO bronzed, so black-eyed, and athletic, that one 
involuntarily thought of a band of African smug- 
glers ; faces now repulsively hideous, now recall- 
ing the noblest forms of the antique, — all this 
motley throng were tumultuously singing, shout- 
ing, gesticulating, and dancing before my eyes, 
so that I soon no longer knew what I should fix 
upon the paper. At the end of the table sat 
enthroned bride and bridegroom, surrounded by 
friends and relatives. She was a slender, black- 
eyed damsel, with the brightest of smiles, and a 
glance that beamed ; he, a powerful, muscular 
figure, the genuine type of a Neapolitan smug- 
gler, and for the moment plainly more occupied 
with the maccaroni and the wine-pitcher than 
with the young woman beside him. 

All at once there came a sharp, shrill cry, as 
of a sea-gull from the reef out yonder, whose 
waves shone with the silver-white phosphores- 
cence which is peculiar to the waters of the 
Mediterranean in the summer time. It seemed 
as if the signal exerted a magical influence upon 
all present. There ’Was suddenly a death-like 
stillness — even the children ceased their noisy 
play ; then rose a deafening viva, hats and caps 
were swung in air, tambourines and guitars came 
as if summoned by magic from their secret 


PILLONE. 


33 


hiding-places ; and, while some of the fish- 
women seized a couple of the burning olive- 
branches and swung them over their heads, all the 
rest of the crowd, the guitars in advance, rushed 
down to the beach to welcome the expected 
guest. 

My eye swept searchingly out over the sea. 
At first I saw nothing but the wake of the moon, 
and the peculiar flash of the waves that broke 
upon the beach. Then a dark object came 
in sight ; it sheered like a monstrous dolphin 
close past the outermost point of the reef, 
then -shot like an arrow into the bright silvery 
track of the moonlight, and now showed itself 
as one of those long, narrow, sharp-built smug- 
glers' boats, which, rowed by sixteen power- 
ful men, fly with the speed of the sea-gull over 
the waves of the Mediterranean. Ere the fisher- 
men with their torches reached the strand, the 
boat had already landed ; and, surrounded by the 
throng, greeted with loud rejoicings, aye, almost 
worshiped, two new comers stepped beneath the 
gayly adorned tent, two figures so remarkable 
that they henceforth drew my undivided atten- 
tion. 

One was a young, tall, and slender man, brown 
as an Arab, with sharply marked features, and a 
5 


34 


PILLONE. 


look that had something peculiar, almost majestic, 
in its character. From his high-crowned, pointed 
hat fluttered a profusion of gay silken ribbons. 
About one shoulder hung loose a gold-embroid- 
ered velvet jacket, with large massive silver 
buttons, and under it appeared a richly worked 
collar of lace, which was fastened about his neck 
by a sparkling clasp. The open velvet waistcoat 
disappeared below in the folds of a dark-red sash, 
and when I add that a pair of yellow gaiters, with 
wide velvet knee-breeches, completed his attire, 
the reader will easily recognize the costume which 
in the neighborhood of Amalfi is worn by the rich 
vineyard-owners, when they come together on 
great festal occasions. 

The other was a young maiden, — a slender, 
supple form, of almost fairy-like delicacy, a per- 
fect beauty, with Grecian profile, and that strange, 
almost melancholy ' expression of eye which be- 
longs to so many Neapolitan women. She wore 
a dark, voluminous silken robe, the black capu- 
chin hood of which she had drawn half over her 
head to protect herself from the sea air. Now 
with a toss she flung it back, threw it to one of 
the fishermen, turned her head to the fire, and 
showed, to my astonishment, a thick, rich, but 
almost golden-red mass of hair, which, interwoven 


PILLONE. 


35 


with heavy strings of pearls, lay like a halo about 
her head. 

One often meets a Neapolitan woman with 
reddish hair, for on the shores of the gulf, where 
Franks, Normans, Lombards, and a hundred other 
races have ruled in turn, the Italian race no longer 
possesses the same purity of unmixed blood as 
in the valleys of the Sabine and Volscian hills ; 
but hair of so .metallic a lustre, so golden-ruddy 
a sheen, I had never yet seen, and it brought out 
in wonderful relief the.vaulted arches of the dark 
brows, and the haughty glance that flashed in 
the large, black eyes which hastily swept the 
assembly. 

Yet, if her beauty had enchained me, her cos- 
tume threw me into still greater astonishment. 
I will not speak of the point lace, of the embroid- 
ered velvet bodice, the gay silk petticoat, and the 
little shoes with their monstrous silver buckles. 
All this I knew from the models of the ateliers 
and from the life of the harbor down below there, 
when the peasants from Sorrento and Ischia 
came to Naples in state costume, to pay the 
capital the honor of a visit. No, what struck 
me was the sparkling brilliancy of the almost too 
numerous jewels with which^^she was adorned. 
Now, as with her companion she took her 


36 


PILLONE. 


stand directly before me in the tent, I could 
plainly see that these objects had not been 
bought in the poor shops of the little goldsmiths 
down in Santa Lucia, but that the precious 
stones which flashed on her neck and in her ears 
were diamonds, rubies, and sapphires, the like 
of which hardly the richest jeweler in Toledo 
Street had to show. Yes, to my amazement I 
discovered that the pearls, as large as nuts, which, 
like pure snow-drops, wound through her hair, 
and which I had taken for Roman imitations, 
were as genuine as if they had just been drawn 
up from the mysterious depths of the sea. When, 
in addition, I considered the blood-red corals 
about her neck, and the heavy bracelets, set with 
rubies, which encircled her wrists, I could not 
but be convinced that, even if she were no 
princess, yet she bore upon her person a princely 
fortune. 

In spite of this, there was in her beauty, as 
well as in the magnificence which heightened it, 
something that produced a repelling effect, much 
as the first impression might have imposed upon 
the eye. Not only was she conscious of her 
beauty, bufi she received the admiring homage, 
which was offered her on all sides, with a certain 
contemptuous aii^' which responded but ill to the 


PILLONE. 


37 


heartiness with which these poor people came to 
meet her. Likewise there played about her 
mouth a certain cold, indifferent expression, and 
when she seemed to feel herself injured by any 
utterance of her companion, her almost too regu- 
lar features took on an expression whose cold- 
ness brought to mind the glitter of the snow on 
the summits of the Apennines. 

The motley throng had now again taken their 
places at the tables, and that in such a manner 
that the rich stranger sat at the right of the 
head table, and his companion beside him. I 
made up my mind that he was some immensely 
wealthy vineyard-owner, who had fallen upon the 
bizarre conceit of attending the wedding of one 
of his dependents, and I was confirmed in this 
idea when I saw him draw out a well-filled purse, 
which with some flattering words he handed to 
the bride. The eyes of his companion flashed 
as he made this present to the young woman; 
she turned herself hastily to him, and whispered 
a couple of words, which had the effect of making 
him rise with contracted brow and flashing eyes. 
She shrank into herself with an anxious gesture, 
and when shortly after she rose from her place, 
and from the entrance of the tent looked long- 
ingly out on the sea, I saw that she hurriedly 


33 


PILLONE. 


wiped away the tears, which the words of her 
companion secerned to have caljed forth. At 
the same time a ragged, hump -backed beggar 
came down the rocky stairway. He wandered 
from one to another, held out a small tin box, 
and received from each guest a jingling gift 
in honor of the bridal pair. But two things at- 
tracted my attention : one that he always kept 
his eye askant upon the last arrived couple ; an- 
other, that he designedly omitted to ask these as 
well as the bridal pair for an alms, and at the 
same time gradually slunk in the dim light to the 
darkest side of the tent, there to remain standing, 
hardly ten steps removed from me. 

The feast meantime pursued its regular course ; 
the viands disappeared one after the other ; the 
wine-pitchers went more and more rapidly about ; 
the confusion and uproar rose higher and higher, 
and the clear, full moon, streamed over the dark, 
rocky peaks, as if she were curious to learn what 
joys prevail among the poor inhabitants of earth. 
Every festivity on Neapolitan soil must end with 
the dance. The tarantella is for these children 
of nature as necessary as their maccaroni and 
their sparkling wine. At a sign from the bride- 
groom the tables and chairs were set aside, the 
wine-casks were rolled away, the children were 


PILLONE. 


39 


removed, and a moment after sounded those vary- 
ing, intoxicating tones, that have power to stir 
the blood of even the coldest of northeners. The 
first couple that stepped forward were tfie bride 
and bridegroom, and together with them figured 
the richly attired pair who had last disembarked 
from the boat. Never have I seen a tarantella 
danced with so much grace, so much life, and 
yet so great difference of conception. The young 
bridal pair gave themselves up wholly to the 
bacchantic intoxication of the dance. They 
danced like a pair of fluttering butterflies, like a 
pair of twittering swallows that are about to build 
their nest under the roof. Quite otherwise the 
second pair. The young maiden danced better, 
more lightly, and much more expressively than 
the happy little bride ; but in the manner in 
which she bore herself toward her partner there 
lay something cold, almost scornful, which pro- 
voked him suddenly to leap out of the circle of 
dancers and snatch a guitar from one of those 
who stood next him. The bridal pair left the 
floor ; now another couple stepped forward, and 
just as this took place, I saw the young maiden 
approach the hump-backed beggar and hand him 
an alms, for which he returned thanks, bowing 
his misshapen form almost to the ground. The 


40 


PILLONE. 


young man had not observed it ; he was busy in 
tuning the guitar, and, stepping before the musi- 
cians, he began an improvisation with so clear, 
rich, and metallic a voice, that the rest of the 
instruments gradually became silent. He sang 
of the happiness of true love, which looked only 
to the gold of the heart, without troubling itself 
about precious stones and pearls ; he compared 
it with the sea-gulls, which ever in pairs wing 
their, way over the waters of the Mediterranean. 
Continuing his improvisation, he gradually drew 
near to his companion, who with an expression 
of despair was leaning against the wall. Sud- 
denly with a spring he was at her side, quick as 
a flash loosed the heavy band of coral from her 
neck, and in an instant threw it about the neck 
of the young bride, who,, blushing, slipped aside 
from the ranks of the dancers. 

This was too much. Like a tigress the young 
maiden darted forward to recover the pillaged 
ornament. The bridegroom stepped between, 
and in the same moment received so downright 
a box on the ear as might hardly have been ex- 
pected from so tender and weak a hand ; ere, 
however, further strife could rise, the young im- 
provisator had seized his companion by the wrist, 
and, whispering a couple of words in a dialect I 


PILLONE. 


41 


could not understand, pressed her harshly down 
against the wall of rock, where she cowered 
sobbing, while he again took his former place. 
A rfioment later she stood up. She was pale as 
a corpse, her hands were clenched, and upon her 
countenance rested an expression which enabled 
me for the first time to understand the myth of 
the ancients concerning the petrifying head of 
Medusa. Hate, rage, and death-dealing frenzy 
united in the look which she cast upon the bridal 
pair and her companion ; then, without attracting 
attention, she stooped in the shadow of the 
projecting rock, and hastily whispered a word or 
two to the beggar, who disappeared upon a 
rocky path that led down past the ruins of the 
palace of*' Queen Johanna. 

At this moment there came over me a strong 
suspicion that this gnome had mischief in his 
head, so softly and silently did he creep along 
the rocky "path which led down to the sea. I 
closed my portfolio, hid it behind a rock, and 
then followed him to see what he had in view. 
My curiosity was to be quickly satisfied. Upon 
a projecting point of rock, I saw the hump-back 
creep out until his great head was over the 
water; then came a stifled whisper, that was 
answered by a low whistle; I heard the clank of 
6 


42 


PILLONE. 


weapons, subdued commands, and in the same 
moment a heavy long-boat pushed out into sight 
beside the steeply sloping beach. In spite of 
the deep shadow which the rocks threw out 
over the water, I had seen enough to comprehend 
the whole. It was a well-manned revenue boat, 
and my company must therefore consist of 
smugglers, whom it was meant to surprise. 
Without pausing to think of consequences, I 
flew back up the path, and with one spring was 
in the midst of the dancers. A bomb could not 
have produced a greater effect. The music 
stopped short, the men surrounded me with 
threatening gestures, the women drew back in 
alarm, but, heeding nothing, I rushed straight 
upon the young man, snatched the guitar from 
his hands, and cried : Save yourself ! The 
doganieri are coming ! ” 

It was as if lightning had struck beside me. 
The women uttered cries of terror, the men 
stared helples-sly at one another, only the stran- 
ger preserved his entire calmness. He drew a 
revolver from his scarf, gave me a piercing look, 
and asked composedly, ‘‘Who are you.^'' 

“ An artist stranger whom the dance and the 
music drew hither,’’ I answered, returning his 
look. “You are betrayed, and I wished to save 
you.” 


PILLONE. 


43 


will not forget this/' said the young man . 
quickly, examining the lock of his revolver, 
^^but take yourself off, bullets may hit a stranger 
as well as any one." 

Hardly had he spoken, when the word of 
command was heard below on the landing-place, 
and gendarmes and revenue soldiers, like dark 
phantoms risen out of the sea, climbed up the 
rocky ascent. In the next moment all lights 
were extinguished, women and children vanished 
into the interior of the huts, and in the moon- 
light I saw a tall, slender gendarmerie officer 
hastening forward at the head of his men with 
the summons, ^‘Make no opposition! You are 
surrounded on all sides ! Resistance is useless 1 " 

The surprised smugglers cast disheartened 
looks at each other ; on all sides I saw knives 
and pistols lowered. Then came again the same 
shrill cry of the sea-gull from out upon the sea, 
and on the instant the unknown stranger sprang 
upon a mass of rock, from which he made sig- 
nals in the direction of the cry. 

‘Ht is too late, Pillone I " cried the officer, rais- 
ing and leveling his revolver. Dead or alive are 
my orders." 

The first then. Signor Cavaletti," replied the 
young man haughtily; ‘‘Pillone has never yet 
succumbed." 


44 


PILLONE. 


The blood curdled in my veins ; I had not 
dreamed of the possibility of so sudden a trans- 
ition. There were two reports, I heard a bullet 
whistle past me, and saw the young officer fall 
backward to the earth. Pillone sprang again 
iiTto the tent, where he vanished through one 
of the dark clefts between the rocks. The 
gendarmes followed him like madmen, but ere 
in the darkness they could find Pillone’s hiding- 
place, he had slipped out again through another 
opening, and with herculean strength tearing, 
loose from its fastening the sail-yard to which 
the tent was secured, he buried the gendarraes 
under the canvas, and in the next moment was 
below upon the strand. I heard for the third 
time the sharp, shrill signal screaming across the 
waves, then I saw Pillone plunge into the water, 
dive, and make his way like a phosphorescent 
streak toward the reef. After a few seconds the 
gendarmes were again upon their feet. Without 
heeding me, they hastened down to the strand, 
from which they sent bullet upon bullet after the 
bold swimmer, without other effect than that the 
streak disappeared, to re-appear again farther 
off. The long, narrow boat appeared again at 
the end of the reef ; I heard a splashing, a 
mocking laugh, and with the swiftness of a dol- 


PILLONE. 


45 


phin, the boat disappeared like a dark shadow 
in the direction of Sorrento. 

When, on the next morning, I entered the 
cafe, I read in the Giornale di Napoli ” that an 
unsuccessful attempt had been made to surprise 
Pillone in the midst of a band of smugglers on 
the beach at Posilippo. His well-known mistress, 
Filomela, had however been captured with jewels 
and ornaments of fabulous value upon her per_ 
son, and from her the police expected important 
revelations. 

Such was my first meeting with Pillone. 

Turminoff rose and flung the stump of his 
cigarette over the parapet of the veranda, where, 
like a little falling star, scattering sparks as it 
went, it disappeared in the depths. Then he 
rolled himself a fresh one, sipped his wine, and 
went on. 

I spent the summer in Pompeii, Amalfi, and 
Salerno, without hearing anything of Pillone ; 
he had, as ever after any encounter with the 
authorities, disappeared without leaving a trace 
behind him. Not till I came to Sorrento in the 
autumn did it begin to be rumored that he had 
been seen, now here, now there ; and when finally 
a rich Frenchman had been plundered in riding 


46 


PILLONE. 


over Monte San Angelo, it was known that Pil- 
lone had once more collected a band, and the 
carabineers were again on foot, while most of 
the rich strangers who occupied villas in the 
surrounding country packed up their trunks and 
withdrew in haste to Naples. 

Rosa Magra, the usual resort of artists in the 
wonder-crowded Sorrento, was completely filled 
on my arrival. I saw myself, therefore, com- 
pelled to proceed to the extreme end of the 
town ; and as I had not the means to live at the 
great hotels, I chose a genuine Italian albergo 
that lay quite close to the sea. I soon saw that 
I could not have made a better choice. La Cocu- 
mella, as- my modest lodging was called, was one 
of those inns of the second class where one lives 
on a certain familiar footing with host and hostess, 
children and attendants, and where, if one has 
the good fortune to gain their confidence, one is 
soon treated more like an old friend than like a 
paying guest. Vineyards and gardens stood open 
to me ; any unoccupied room was at my disposal ; 
I could set up my studio where I wished ; and 
every evening there was story-telling by the fire- 
side, if the weather was rainy, or the tarantella 
was danced on the broad, leafy veranda of the 
house, when the heavens were cloudless, and the 


PILLONE. 


47 


silver streak of the moon pointed to the smoking 
crest of Vesuvius. These were happy days, so 
full of peaceful enjoyment and innocent gayety 
that one would never have suspected there could 
be robbers in this beautiful spot, still less that 
one need flee from them. 

La Cocumella was very ramblingly built. It 
had originally been an old Jesuit convent, that 
had fallen into decay in consequence of an earth- 
quake, then had passed into private hands, and 
now at last had been changed into a hotel. 
Properly speaking, it had no special garden, but 
only a series of vines, which, however, through 
their uniformity and their unbroken descent in 
terraces, offered no agreeable lounging -plage. 
To make amends, mine host, the amiable Nicolo, 
had procured me the key to one of the most 
noteworthy villas, which was connected with the 
outermost vines by a short leaf-embowered pas- 
sage. This villa belonged to the Count of Syra- 
cuse, a Sicilian nobleman, wjio had died more 
than ten years before, and over whose property 
hung a tedious lawsuit, which bade fair to last 
ten years longer. The villa was known, there- 
fore, among the people, as ‘Ta villa morta;’’ and 
it really deserved this name, for anything more 
completely dead, or rather more completely 


48 


PILLONE. 


buried alive, one could not easily find on a spot 
where everything else breathed of sunshine and 
life. How often, as I walked in these shady, 
almost dusky paths, was I reminded of little 
Dornroschen, who slept in the enchanted palace. 
Flowers and creeping plants had strayed from 
their beds, and stretched like bright -colored 
snakes across the moss-grown paths* whence 
the gravel had long disappeared. The statues 
were wreathed with ivy and twining wild roses ; 
brambles and ferns grew in wild profusion from 
the beds of leaves which had accumulated in the 
marble basins of the old fountains ; the oranges 
rotted unheeded in the conduits which no longer 
brought moisture to the orange grove, while 
pines, cypresses, and plane-trees carried on an 
embittered strife which of them should be able 
to spread farthest and rob the others of sunlight 
and the breath of life ; wonderful fungi, often of 
astonishing size, shot up in the shady myrtle 
thicket, and when the twilight came on, one 
often met frogs of such .dimensions that one 
involuntarily made way for them as for the 
proper and rightful occupants of the garden. 
In a corner, looking directly into the garden, lay 
the villa proper, a handsome two-storied build- 
ing, with a quadrangular tower, but, if possible, 


PILLONE. 


49 


more desolate, repellant, and forlorn than the 
garden itself. All was closed, barred, and bolted, 
from the kitchen window in the cellar to the 
chimneys, with their strange little pointed wooden 
roofs, which were to prevent the penetration of 
the rain. All was overgrown with a profusion of 
grape-vines, , ivy, honeysuckle, and other climb- 
ing plants, which had abandoned the long moul- 
dered espaliers, in order to clamber on their own 
responsibility over the roof, and down again on 
the other side. Aye, so mighty was the vigor of 
the vegetation, that one would hardly have found 
the spot where the entrance stood, had not an 
overturned statue of Venus deranged the foliage, 
and thereby opened to the eye a glimpse into a 
ruinous vestibule, where the brisk little sparrows 
flew out and in to bring food to their peeping 
young. 

From the rear of this villa, where one must have 
had the most enchanting view over the gulf and 
its environs, a broad stone stairway led down to 
the so-called galleries, which are a striking 
characteristic of the rocky shores near Sorrento. 
They are high arched passages, hewn in the 
rocks themselves, and lighted by broad openings 
toward the sun-illumined sea. Their first origin 
points back to the oldest times of the Romans, 
7 


PILLONE. 


50 


but what special purpose they may have served 
is a question on which the most diverse views 
prevail among archaeologists. Some saw in them 
the descents to the nymphaea, which belonged 
to the Roman villas of the olden time ; others 
held them to be works of defence against the 
Saracens; still others think to have discovered 
in these passages burial-places or catacombs, 
while others again adopt the common-sense view 
that this whole system of tunnels consists of 
nothing more than quarries, which in the course 
of time have come into existence through the 
hewing here of those blocks of limestone which 
later were piled upon one another, to form the 
magnificent villas of the mighty Romans. I will 
nof go farther into these hypotheses, but only 
observe that these cool, shady passages are as 
emphatically a real boon in the burning glow of 
summer, as by their intersections, their recesses 
and side passages, they belong to the most pic- 
turesque objects that one can conceive. The 
view, too, which one enjoys of the glassy, smooth 
gulf, the winding shore, and the distant Naples, 
is something so captivating and entrancing, that 
one can spend hours absorbed in contemplation 
of this sunny magnificence, which fills the soul 
with wonderful reveries. 


PILLONE. 


51 


You will not think it strange, then, that as a 
painter, I felt myself' drawn by a quite peculiar 
attraction to these subterranean crypts, and that 
I was almost daily before my easel, in a cross- 
passage from which one had the widest view 
over the sea and the whole rich life that stirred 
without. 

It was an afternoon toward the beginning of 
October. The first storms had already begun 
to announce themselves, and in magnificent 
breakers the foam dashed high against the 
vertical walls of rock, which here seemed to 
rise like iron bulwarks, fit to bid defiance to the 
hurricanes of a thousand years. I was just about 
finishing a picture upon which I had been work- 
ing, and, occupied with painting the rocky strand, 
I heeded nothing else till a shot to seaward 
roused my attention. I looked out and saw two 
crafts, which, with all they could carry in the 
raging storm, like two sea-gulls, held their course 
straight upon the coast. The nearer was one of 
those large boats which in Sorrento are called 
‘Lancia;'' the more distant seemed to be a reve- 
nue cutter, but both were rigged after Neapolitan 
fashion, with broad -bellied lateen sails, which 
bore them in furious haste toward the coast. It 
was now a very common spectacle to see a vessel 


52 


PILLONE. 


of the revenue officers pursuing a boat in which 
they suspected contraband goods, but never yet 
had I seen Neapolitan craft, whose crews in gen- 
eral are very mediocre seamen, venture out in 
so furious a tempest, and still less had I seen 
them pursue each other in such blind haste, for 
they looked altogether as if they would run 
straight in upon the cliff and be dashed into 
atoms. Suddenly the foremost boat went about, 
the lateen sail fell, and as in full course it sheered 
close past a jutting rock, I saw a man leap 
from thwart to thwart, and then disappear in the 
waves. A couple of shots were fired from the 
revenue boat, then she too was obliged to lower 
sail, and now in like manner disappeared behind 
a projecting cliff, which cut off my further view. 

I rose and looked out, but all was quiet — 
only the foaming wave-crests hurled themselves 
in over the rocks, and fell back in a shower of 
pearls from the vertical wall of the cliff. What 
swimmer could in such a storm escape the 
fate of being whirled helpless by the breakers 
and dashed to death upon the rocks ? I looked 
once more as far as I could in toward the 
tongue of land, and then resumed my place at 
my easel with the silent thought that here again 
the miserable smuggling trade had demanded 


PILLONE. 


S3 


one of its pitiful sacrifices. Hardly had I painted 
two minutes when I thought I heard something 
rattle against the rock, a couple of stones rolled 
down, and in the same moment a half-naked 
fisherman swung himself in through the broad 
" opening with such force that he almost brought 
me and my easel to the ground together. 

Involuntarily an exclamation of surprise’ and 
anger escaped me, for, dripping wet as he was, 
he had in his spring flirted water and gravel 
over my picture. 

‘‘Pardon, Eccellenza,’’ said he, and panted for 
breath ; “ but you must give me your cloak.’^ 

“ My cloak ? ’’ cried I, aroused, and grasped 
my maul-stick. 

“Yes, and your hat and your glasses,” he con- 
tinued with imperturbable calmness. 

“Are you mad, you rascal cried I, as he at 
the same time spread my painter's umbrella, and 
set it before the easel. “You are ruining my 
picture.” 

“ Fear nothing, Eccellenza,” whispered he, half 
entreating, half threatening ; “ I will not rob you 
of a single hair of a pencil ; but your cloak I 
must have ; there is not a moment to lose.” 

He made a movement to take my cloak from 
my shoulders, and I, believing an attack was 


54 


PILLONE. 


really intended, raised my stick in posture of 
defense ; but with the suppleness of a panther> 
he slipped like a flash under my raised arm, and 
with a single turn wresting the stick from me, 
said in a low voice : “ Do you not know me, 
Eccellenza? Wp two have once before been 
under fire together. Do you remember the 
wedding on the beach at Posilippo 1 ” 

“ Pillone ! ” cried I, and let fall my arm. 

“ The same, Eccellenza, and in need as then, 
hunted as then. Question me not, detain me 
not, my life hangs on each moment. Lend me 
what I ask, and I am saved.” 

How should I, in this young, slender, and 
beardless fisherman, with close-shaven hair, have 
recognized the elegantly clad leader How little 
was this half-naked, dripping figure, like the 
imposing presence which on that evening had 
been the soul of the feast and of the fight > And 
yet I could not doubt; the voice was his, the 
eye and the secure bearing betrayed even in this 
movement, pregnant with fate, the leader Pillone. 

“ Take my red cap ! ” he whispered, while he 
hastily threw about him my great Roman mantle, 
and pressed upon his head my broad -brimmed 
felt hat. “ Throw it down out of the third window 
yonder, so that it remain lying on the beach 


PILLONE. 


55 


among the rocks. Then hide yourself at the 
farthest extremity of the side passage, where the 
image of the Madonna hangs, and do not come 
out again till all is still. Make haste ! life is at 
stake.'' 

Th^re was something so urgent and authorita- 
tive in this brief command, that I obeyed on the 
instant. The cap flew out of the window, was 
whirled down by the wind, and remained hanging 
on a jutting point of rock. I myself sought out 
the passage indicated, and saw, as I sprang into 
it, Pillone sitting bent before my easel, bedaubing 
my picture finely with a brush, which, for that 
matter, he held with a certain practised air. 
Had I not been witness of the metamorphosis, 
I might have believed it was I myself, who with 
my great goggles sat upon the artist's stool in the 
gallery yonder. 


56 


PILLONE. 


PART III. 

T HAD hardly gone twenty steps into the pas- 
^ sage, when I became aware of the sound of 
voices, orders, and clank of arms. I sought to 
grope onward as far as possible in the darkness, 
for it became clear to me that, if Pillone's double, 
were found, all would be over with him. Shortly 
after I saw, far out yonder, a patrol marching 
past, and two men were ordered to search the 
passage in which I lay hid. Blinded by the 
darkness, they felt their way forward, stumbling 
over the stones and heaps of gravel with which 
the ground was covered. I drew myself further 
and further back, and now I suddenly understood 
why Pillone had directed me to just this passage. 
The rock had a cleft, just wide enough for a 
man to squeeze through, and behind it was a 
barrel-shaped chamber, full of niches which had 
a certain resemblance to the columbaria of the 
ancients. Here I slipped in, and soon after 
heard steps sound without. 

‘'Now, the devil may do any further hunting 
around in these foxes' holes, Giovanni ! " I heard 


PILLONE. 


57 


a voice call out. ‘‘ If the rascal is stowed away 
in here, he can put his pistols to our heads, with- 
out our being able to see the muzzles.’’ 

‘‘ Devil takd me, if he is hidden here ! ” :said 
the second. ‘‘ Marcello found his cap down be- 
low among the rOcks, and it was bloody, he 
said. The devil, let alone Pillone, could not get 
to land in such weather. Did' you see where he 
sprang overboard.? It was just by the cliff 
which we call the sea-king’s fingers. They hold 
fast what they get, you may believe ; no rat 
comes to land yonder, where they stretch out.” 

With these words the two brave carabineers 
turned about and groped their way back to the 
light again. Now and then I still heard the sound 
of steps echoing among the lofty stone* vaults. 
Now and then still sounded a call and an answer, 
— then all was still as the grave. Perhaps an hour 
I sat and listened to the soughing of the wind, and 
the beating of the breakers against the rocky 
strand ; then I stole softly out, peered along the 
main passage, and found it empty ; awhile longer 
I listened, then I crept softly to the spot where 
I had sat. All was in perfect order. My mantle 
hung carefully folded, together on the back of the 
chair, the hat and the glasses lay upon the seat ; 
not a hair of a pencil was missing from my color 
8 


58 


» PILLONE. 


box, and as for my picture, it was in the same 
condition in which I left it, only ill one corner 
stood, in black letters, ‘‘Pillone fecit,'’ — I have 
it yet. 

Turminoff filled his glass, touched mine, and 
said : Pillone's health ! ” I drank, and he went 
on in his usual quiet way. 

What most amazed me in this strange adven- 
ture was not so much Pillone's presence of mind 
and boldness, for of that a hundred examples 
were known to me, but the way in which he had 
slipped away from his numerous pursuers. Below, 
the gallery ended upon a narrow beach thickly 
strewn with monstrous blocks of stone, and the 
fact that he had asked me to throw his cap down 
thither sufficiently proved that he could not have 
saved himself in this direction, which, moreover, 
had no outlet except into the raging sea. Above, 
the gallery ended in the approach to the villa 
morta, and thence the patrol of gendarmes 
had manifestly come down. There remained, 
therefore, no other alternative, but that he must 
be hidden in the depths of the rocky passages ; 
but, if I except the precise passage into which 
he had directed me, they were all so spacious 


PILLONE. 


59 


that I did not clearly comprehend how he 
could have found a hiding-place in them. The 
whole was a riddle to me, that piqued my curi- 
osity the more sharply the longer I thought it 
over, and this not a whit the less when my 
honest landlord, Nicolo, assured me that from 
the galleries there went landward only one con- 
duit, now walled up, and that led to the cisterns 
of the villa, which the fall rains had long since 
filled with' water. I convinced myself personally 
of this, and, moreover, told neither him nor any 
one else of my singular encounter, for I had the 
secret feeling that untoward consequences might 
thence accrue to Pillone. But as often as I 
thought of the little episode, I could not but 
repeat to myself. How can he have got away ? 

Yet one thing was possible. He might have 
retired as he had come; and in order to make 
myself certain on this point, several days after- 
ward, when the sea had become calm, I hired a 
boat, and caused myself to be set ashore beside 
the rocks which bore the significant name of the 
sea-king's fingers." It was a lava reef to which 
the ceaseless turmoil of the waves, by wasting 
away the softer parts of the stone, had given 
this peculiar form, and which now, with its sharp, 
crooked teeth, rose just far enough above the 


6o 


PILLONE. 


water to enable me to spring from finger to 
finger. By this means I reached a higher ridge, 
which, smooth and overgrown with seaweed, 
extended to the rocky wall, where, as a narrow 
ledge, it ran along under the opening near which 
.1 had sat and painted. So far I could come, 
but no farther, for here the reef ended, and, 
difficult as it must have been, in storm and a 
high sea, to climb these sharp teeth, slippery 
with algae, to use them as a way of return would 
have been impossible. From the reef up to the 
opening, a practiced gymnast might indeed climb 
by supporting his feet upon the numerous little 
inequalities of the rocky cliff, but this, too, 
could not possibly be thought of in returning, 
and so there remained only the view that Pillone 
had hidden himself in the galleries in some spot 
incomprehensible to any one of us all. This 
view, which was shared also by all the inmates 
of La Cocumella, threw our little albergo into 
no small uneasiness and anxiety. Nicolo armed 
himself and his people with some highly remark- 
able match-locks obtained from the municipality 
of Sorrento, and for several nights watch was 
kept, and conch-shells blown till all the dogs 
howled in concert. But as no Pillone showed 
himself, people gradually became quiet again. 


PILLONE. 


6l 


and eight days later were so firmly convinced 
that he must have been dashed to death against 
the -rocks, that his red cap was presented to the 
municipality and was hung up as a token of 
victory. Only I knew more than the rest, and 
yet really — nothing. 

One afternoon I had again gone down into 
these lonesome stone vaults to make a water- 
color sketch of an especially picturesque cross- 
passage. The background was formed by one 
of those gayly decorated shrines which are so 
common in the south, and which here, in a richly 
carved piece of sculpture, represented the holy 
St. Anthony, who was receiving the nimbus 
from the Christ-child sitting on the lap of the 
Madonna. The image, which in this neighbor- 
hood was regarded with much reverence, and 
every Sunday was adorned with fresh flowers 
and garlands, was cut upon a slab of wood, 
which went down to the ground, and over which, 
upon a projecting rim that was almost like a 
door, was stretched a wire netting to protect it 
from injury. I had hardly arranged my colors, 
when I became aware of one of those huge 
dirty grey toads, which I knew so well in the 
dusky avenues of the deserted villa. It came 
quite slowly, creeping forward from beneath the 


62 


PILLONE. 


pedestal of the holy image, and then hopped 
croaking toward me. I have an innate horror 
of reptiles of such magnitude, and involuntarily 
pushed back my stool to let it go by. A few 
minutes after, I saw another yet larger one 
sliding forward under the border of the holy 
image, and then came three more, all from the 
same place, — it was a regular magazine of 
toads. In disgust I pushed them out of the way 
with my maul-stick, but forthwith I received the 
visit of a new family from under the holy image. 
I had painted in so many places in the galleries 
without stumbling on these creatures, how was it 
so many came now all at once from one and the 
same spot ? There was a broad crevice between 
the floor and the lower border of the frame, 
and nothing more. One circumstance, however, 
struck me. The earth before the image was 
much moister than in the other parts of the pas- 
sage, and in this damp green earth was plainly 
to be seen the track of a naked human foot, so 
directly under the border that he to whom it 
belonged must have walked through the image 
in order to imprint it there. Now the matter 
became indeed in the highest degree suspicious. 
Behind the carved image of the saint there must 
be a vacant space, for moisture as well as toads 


PILLONE. 


63 


could come out under it. I pulled ^ the iron- 
work, I shook the wooden frame — it would not 
be stirred. Then my eye fell upon the out- 
stretched hand of the infant Christ, and upon 
the nimbus which was riveted to it. It looked 
almost like a handle, and the meshes of the wire 
which came just in front of the nimbus seemed 
to me to be larger and more curved than the 
rest. I stood upon the lowest step of the image, 
reached^ my hand through the network, pulled at 
the nimbus, and you can conceive my astonish- 
ment when at the same moment the arm sank 
down with a jarring sound and the whole image 
slowly swung back like the wing of a folding 
door. Now I had discovered Pillone’s secret. 
Before me lay a short and dark passage out of 
which the toads had plainly crept, and at the 
back of it I became aware of a stairway, whose 
steps were covered with greenish slime and 
mould ; a damp, cold air smote against me, and a 
couple of steps forward convinced me that the 
whole must be a stairway, leading up to the 
deserted villa, which lay just over my head. To 
penetrate further seemed to me not advisable 
at a time when the place was as much frequented 
as just then. I contented myself, therefore, 
with ascertaining how the door of the holy 


64 


PILLONE. 


image was to be opened from within, and when 
I had convinced myself that this could be accom- 
plished with ease, I closed the whole again, and 
set myself down at my easel ; but the painting 
would not go ; my thoughts were in altogether 
too violent excitement. Should I make my way 
into the mysterious villa and find out Pillone’s 
secret, or should I content myself with that 
which I had seen ? These were two questions, 
which, like two billowy currents, streamed 
through my spirit and caused me to undertake a 
long ramble along the shore, whence my eyes 
constantly swept across to the foliage-hidden roof 
and the strangely-built chimneys, as often as I 
came to an elevated spot At last the position 
became intolerable to me, and in a fit of nervous 
impatience, I turned my steps toward the main 
highway in order to go back by it, resultless, to 
La Cocumella. 

Suddenly there sounded behind me the gay 
bells of a vetturino, and enveloped in a cloud of 
dust came a heavy, old-fashioned carriage, rum- 
bling along on the sandy highway. The luggage, 
which consisted of a lady’s trunk, was as usual 
secured behind by strong iron chains. The 
coach itself was not only a close one, which is 
very unusual among Neapolitan vehicles, but the 


PILLONE. 


65 


windows were so hermetically sealed with cur- 
tains and shawls, that it was impossible to see 
what was within it. There lay, without my being 
able clearly to define to myself wherein it con- 
sisted, something peculiarly secret and stealthy 
in the whole melancholy fashion in which the old 
ark rumbled on ; and my curiosity was yet more 
excited, as I observed that it turned down upon 
a side-street to La Cocumella, where, during the 
whole time that I had stayed there, no new 
guests had arrived. 

When at length I reached home, Nicolo's joy- 
illumined face announced that a stranger had 
run into his net. It was a lady, certainly very 
rich, he informed me, who proposed to use the 
sea-baths near Sorrento, for the benefit of her 
health. She had taken the room directly over 
mine, and had immediately retired, as she was 
fatigued from her journey. She had spoken 
French, but whether she were young or old, 
pretty or ugly, on these points my honest Nicolo 
could give me no information, because she had 
been thickly veiled, and ‘‘black as night.’’ 

On the next morning I watched in vain for the . 
new-comer, on her balcony. She did not come 
out; aye, her doors were not once opened, and 
the same was true of the windows of the room 


9 


66 


PILLONE. 


occupied by her — obstinate green blinds over 
all. I flattered myself that she would honor our 
frugal table with her presence. Vain expecta- 
tion ! No one appeared but the stout Nea- 
politan who was constantly asserting that the 
cholera was in Naples, the stiff Englishman 
who had devoted his life to crab catching on the 
rocks, and the melancholy American who could 
not open his mouth without Longfellow’s coming 
out of it. But yes, one other appeared ; it was 
the misshapen, humpbacked beggar whom I had 
seen on the cliff at Posilippo, or some one who 
was startlingly like him ; but, after the ill-omened 
wretch had made several vain attempts to win 
the good-will of the dismal American, Nicolo put 
him outside the door, without, however, being 
able to hinder his sneaking about the tavern the 
rest of the day in a very suspicious manner. 
But if his presence astonished me, I was destined 
toward evening to be amazed by quite other 
matters. The strange signora had not made her 
appearance upon our sociable veranda when the 
sun went down, and had not been a witness of 
the gay tarantella, which the doleful American 
had set on foot. As little had she admired the 
great sun-fish which the Englishman had caught 
on the outermost rocks, and which, as he stoutly 


PILLONE. 


67 


maintained, was not in the British Museum. She 
had preferred to shine by her absence, and had 
thereby given occasion to a series of conjectures, 
which were all overthrown by Nicolo's clear 
declaration that she was indisposed and needed 
complete rest. 

Toward midnight we separated, and I went 
to my room to rest after the excitements of the 
day. Everything was so perfectly still that the 
distant cry of the screech-owl from the villa morta 
down below came up to me with double doleful- 
ness. All remained still as death, till perhaps 
an hour after midnight. Then a strange life 
began to stir above me; tables were rolled and 
moved about, trunks and chests softly opened, 
drawers pulled out and closets shut, all quietly 
and stealthily, and in the midst of all this busy 
activity, sounded light, hasty steps, the jingle of 
keys, and the crackle of paper that was torn. 
This rummaging went on till about three o’clock ; 
then it seemed to me as if I heard something 
creep along the wall beside my bed. A distant 
door opened softly. I thought I heard steps in 
the vineyard, and then all was still. When, how- 
ever, I waked next morning, the whole came 
before me like a dream, all wa^ so still overhead. 

On the following night the mysterious sounds 


68 


PILLONE. 


began again with the same stifled unrest and sub- 
dued haste. The meeting with Pillone, and the 
discovery of the secret door, again came vividly 
before my mind, and ^without clearly knowing 
why, in the solitary darkness of the night, I began 
to connect the strange giiest with the gloomy 
villa and its barred-up doors and windows. Then ' 
I heard again the same rustling, stealthy sound 
through the walls, and this time it seemed to me 
as if I heard the sound of a key, which fell down 
the stairs. On the instant, I sprang up and 
hastened to the door of the balcony, which I 
opened as noiselessly as I could, and thence I 
had an altogether remarkable sight. 

Out of a little gate, which seemed to have 
been a secret outlet for the reverend Jesuits, 
stepped a veiled female form with a dark lantern 
in her hand, and vanished beneath the foliage 
of the vines, not unlike a glimmering firefly, 
which in its flight becomes visible, now here, 
now there, to vanish again without a trace, 
when she has found her mate. The glimmer 
retreated lower and lower down the vineyard, 
and came at length again into view near the 
path which led to the villa morta, but further I 
could not follow it. Two whole, hours I remained 
standing at my post as faithfully as a sentry who 


PILLONE. 


69 


expects a hostile surprise. The day began almost 
to dawn, a faint ruddy streak showed itself on 
the horizon, then I heard again light, stealthy 
steps below among the vines, the little gate 
opened, and the unknown had vanished. 

On the following day, I resolved to search not 
only the vineyard but the old garden of the 
villa in the most thorough manner, but it was all 
with no result. There was no track to be dis- 
covered in the moss-grown paths, the gates were 
all in order, and the villa itself stood as silent, as 
gloomy and deserted as ever. On this day, too, 
the strange signora did not permit herself to be 
seen, but she must have been decidedly better, 
for whenever I wished to ^ speak with any of the 
people of the house, it appeared that he or she, 
was gone with letters of the strange signora to 
the post. She must be carrying on a remarkably 
extended correspondence. 

On a second and a third night the same oc- 
currences were repeated. Regularly, two hours 
after midnight, the lantern came in sight, regu- 
larly it vanished on the path which led to the 
villa of the count, and although in the obscurity 
of my balcony I could plainly see the building, 
yet it was impossibk for me to decide whether 
the light disappeared in the villa itself, since all 


70 


PILLONE. 


its windows were closed most carefully, with 
shutters. Meantime I had a distinct idea that 
this villa must be the goal of the nightly wan- 
derings of the lantern, and now I resolved for 
once myself to play the police, and in earnest 
to take a hand in the affair. Accordingly, I 
went one fine morning into Sorrento and bought 
me in the market a dark-lantern, similar to that 
which had awakened my curiosity. Then I 
returned home, examined my revolver, loaded all 
the chambers, and said to Nicolo that he need 
not expect me that night, as I meant to accom- 
pany the fishermen, in order to see theih take 
up their nets at day-break. At sundown I went 
indeed down to Marina and hired a boat, which 
carried me out some distance on the gulf. Here 
I fished till it was dark, and then had myself 
rowed up to the little beach, whereThe bowlders 
lay, telling the fishermen that I would go home 
through the galleries. 

I do not deny that my heart began to beat, as 
I wandered through those deep and gloomy 
vaults of stone, that in the darkness took on a 
doubly uncanny character, and where the great 
bats that flitted in and out through the openings 
were my only companions. The sea sounded hol- 
low down below, and the dull roar of the break- 


PILLONE. 


71 


ers reverberated in strangely ghostlike fashion 
through these long winding passages, where the 
lightest whisper found a tenfold echo. I had 
reckoned on the moon’s rising, and at least 
lighting the main gallery next the sea, but a 
damp sirocco fog, which rose at the same time 
upon the sea, caused it only to glimmer like a 
dull ruddy disk, which soon completely disap- 
peared. Slowly and listening to the slightest 
sound I advanced with caution along the main 
passage, counting every opening by which I 
passed. At length I paused opposite the side 
gallery to the right ; here it was that the passage 
up to the deserted villa was situated, and here I 
lighted my lantern. 

How strange seemed to me now the gay 
image of the saint, with its gold and tinsel. It 
quivered and twinkled in the light of the lantern ; 
it was as if the figures had come to life and 
were making signs to me to return. For one 
moment — I honestly confess it — I thought of 
giving up the enterprise, but in the next, curi- 
osity got the upper hand. I was armed, at all 
events, and a man ; should not I dare what a 
woman had dared ? 

On the winding stair, which led me up in 
narrow curves, I counted seven and thirty steps. 


72 


PILLONE, 


all alike narrow, alike moist and slippery. Then 
my head struck against a trap door, which 
opened creaking on its rusty hinges, and I 
stood in a lofty vaulted cellar, wheare the wine 
casks, covered with grey mould, lay in their 
places, yet filled with their precious contents, for 
beside one of them stood a wicker flask which 
seemed to have been drawn full a* few moments 
before. By the light of the lantern I soon found 
a new stairway of eight steps, and ascended 
into a kitchen which had plainly been left but 
a short time. Burnt -out embers of charcoal 
lay under a suspended chafing dish, vegetables 
and fish lay scattered here and there, and over 
the cistern dangled an old copper kettle, half 
filled with fresh drinkable water. From the 
kitchen I went by the light of the lantern up a 
new flight’ of stairs ^nd came into a vestibule, 
which by a few steps led up to the story which 
must lie on the same level with the garden of the 
villa. What a sight ! A floor inlaid with varie- 
gated marbles and serpentine in loveliest pat- 
terns ; walls painted in fresco, so vivid and 
complete in execution, the designs might well 
have been taken from the ancient ruins of 
Pompeii ; ceilings adorned with stucco work, 
and Venetian chandeliers ; everywhere paintings, 


PILLONE. 


73 


statuettes, and flowers in the . most splendid 
majolica vases, everywhere velvet-covered chairs, 
silken divans, and richly-gilded couches. Every- 
thing indicated that a rich and powerful o^ner 
had once carried on his prodigal housekeeping 
here. But how terribly had time dealt with his 
possessions, while he himself was mouldering in 
a marble sarcophagus, and his greedy heirs were 
quarreling over the booty. The flowers had long 
since withered in their vases, mould and cobwebs 
now flourished in their stead, the velvet cover- 
ings and the soft cushions were eaten by moths, 
which swarmed about my lantern so thickly as 
almost to hide its light ; the richly inlaid tables 
were full of chinks from which the uncanny tick- 
ing of the wood worm and the death-watch came 
dismally to my ear. Everywhere thick dust, cob- 
webs, mould, and rust, which, in union with the 
confined air, lent to these once so splendid halls 
an extremely weird and" ghostly character. I 
walked through several other apartments ; every- 
where the same stamp of death and desolation, 
of abandonment and decay. At length I reached 
a- magnificent marble stairway, which must lead 
up into the tower-like wing which ended the 
building. The stair ended with a landing ap- 
parently giving entrance to the second story of 


10 


74 


PILLONE. 


the villa, but the door was closed, and all at- 
tempts to open it failed. To the right another 
but narrower stairway led up to the highest room 
of the tower, and here to my surprise the pas- 
sage was open. I entered a large octagonal tower- 
chamber, with vaulted ceiling, and as many win- 
dows as sides, evidently commanding a view out, 
not only over the bay of Naples, but also over Sor- 
rento and the coast down to Castellamare. Every- 
thing in this apartment, as well as in the rest of 
the villa, was fallen into decay and crumbling 
under the hand of time, but from many signs it 
was plainly manifest that this chamber must have 
been occupied no long tinje before. In the centre 
of the apartment stood a stately bed, whose rich 
silk curtains were drawn aside, and whose cover- 
ings, thrown back, showed that some one had 
recently left this princely couch. Garments and 
various articles of the toilet hung about here and 
there, and out of a still open bureau the glitter of 
weapons and uniforms met my eye. Revolvers, 
daggers, and stilettos partly lay upon the broad 
marble table by the chimney, partly hung in the 
form of a trophy of arms near the bed ; and rem- 
nants of cigarettes in a vase upon the writing- 
table, as well as the half-burnt wax lights, showed 
that a man must recently have used the room. 


PILLONE. 


75 


I retained no longer a doubt that Pillone at cer- 
tain times inhabited this old ruined villa, whose 
uncanny character was its best protection ; and 
content with this explanation, I crept again down 
the smooth marble steps, in order to reach the 
open air. Blinded by the glare of the lantern, I 
did not observe that the stairway went down 
lower than before, and ere I was aware, I stood 
again in the cellar, but at the end opposite that 
by which I had come in. I was just about to go 
on, when it seemed to me that I heard a door 
open and shut as if slightly ajar. I went toward 
the sound, and found in fact a little wooden gate, 
which moved in the wind, the heavy bolt, which 
should have secured it, having been so jammed 
that it could not be forced into the rusty hasp. 
I opened it, and saw to my astonishment a mass 
of dense foliage directly before me. I endeavored 
to penetrate this tangle of shrubs and creeping 
plants. I succeeded. I stood in the garden, but 
had nearly paid for my persistence with my life, 
for had I not grasped an oleander bush, I should 
have walked in the darkness straight over the 
low wall, which on this side of the villa formed 
the boundary between the garden and the preci- 
pice which descended sheer down to the sea. 
Now it was clear to me on what path the blink- 


76 


PILLONE. 


ing lantern vanished, and in order to make assur- 
ance doubly sure, I bent a twig of the great ole- 
ander, to mark the spot, and then turned home- 
ward with the conviction that the villa morta 
concealed more secrets than I was able to fathom. 

In the following days, too, it began to look as 
if others than I had conceived suspicions. Nicolo 
had become strikingly reserved, and made more 
visits to the municipality than could have pleased 
him. The people of the house were frequently 
up all night. I stumbled once and again upon the 
hump-backed beggar before the inn, and the gen- 
darmes began to manifest a remarkable predilec- 
tion for the roads that led down to La Cocumella. 
Under these circumstances, I resolved to let 
events take their own crooked course, and al- 
though the restless night-walking over my head 
went on, I slept at last the sleep of the just, 
without allowing myself to be disturbed by the 
numerous reports which the tattlers down below 
in the market set a-going. 

One afternoon I had undertaken a longer ride 
than usual, to the lovely valley of pines near 
Maffa. I proposed to my guide from this point 
to take the way back over the rocky heights, and 
although he raised some scruples on account of 
the bad and unsafe condition of the way, yet I 


PILLONE. 


77 


persisted in my design. We had. meantime 
reached the wood of scattered olives, which 
bounds the lower rocky plateau, when my ass 
stumbled, fell, and broke one of his forjelegs. My 
guide was inconsolable, and while he ran off to 
get help, I made up my mind to set out for 
home on foot, since the twilight was already 
coming on. I Tiad not yet proceeded far on these 
rocky paths, which incessantly branch right and 
left, when I perceived that I had lost my way, 
and the more I became entangled among these 
desolate grey masses of rock with their stunted 
olive trees, the clearer it became to me that I 
should scarcely reach home that evening, if I 
did not fall in with a guide. The rocky waste 
seemed utterly without life ; no houses, no paths, 
only the melancholy note of the quails here and 
there, in the myrtle bushes, and the everlasting 
murmur of the sea far below at my feet. 

At last I came to a monotonous plateau, where ♦ 
to my joy I discovered a herd of lively goats, 
which were nibbling the scanty grass between 
the clefts of the rocks, while an old grey-bearded 
herdsman sat leaning on a block of stone, remark- 
ably enough, absorbed in reading a book. He 
was a splendid old fellow, with snow-white hair 
and beard, with a pointed hat and a ragged cloak. 


78 


PILLONE. 


and so deep in his studies, which assuredly were 
without parallel in their kind, that he did not 
observe me till I was within a few steps of him. 
Then he sprang up with an agility unusual for 
an old man, and with a movement as if seeking 
a weapon. 

‘‘Are you afraid of me, old man.^^” I asked. 

“ I am never afraid ! ” he replied with a haughty 
tone, and regarded me with scrutiny. 

“You can read.^’' said I, to appease him. 
“One does not often find that accomplishment 
among the herdsmen here.” 

“I know more than that,” he answered with 
a peculiar tone, and closed the book. 

“Is that the chronicle of a saint .^” I asked 
again, somewhat surprised by his manner. 

“Yes, a saint of the people, and a martyr for 
the people, like all their heroes,” said he with a 
strange accent of melancholy. 

I took the book and read upon the title page, 
“La Storia di Masaniello,” printed in red letters 
and accompanied by a bad woodcut representing 
the popular leader. It was an old edition of the 
seventeenth century. 

“He was a great man,” said I, giving back 
the book.* I well knew the fanatical enthusiasm 
of the Neapolitans for Masaniello. 


PILLONE. 


79 


The herdsman shook his head, ^and his eyes 
flashed. 

‘‘ NojEccellenza,'* he replied; ‘‘he came near 
being a great man, but he was not ; he might 
have set a crown upon his head, but he lost it in 
the mire ; his fortune was greater than he, and 
that was his misfortune. That is, in few words, 
my opinion of Masaniello.” 

I started at this clear and firm judgment, which 
I had so little expected ; but the herdsman thrust 
the book into his pocket, whistled to his goats, 
and asked curtly, “What do you wish 

“I have lost my way, and wish a guide to 
Sorrento.” 

“That is just now not so easy a matter,” he 
replied. “ The people have’ not yet got back from 
the vineyards, and the herdsmen cannot leave . 
their herds ; but wait a little, perhaps I can help 
you.” 

He turned toward the rocks, and blew into his 
closed hands. It was a hollow, plaintive sound, 
not to be distinguished from the melancholy 
tones of the conch shell. At the same moment 
th^re appeared, as if they had sprung out of the 
rocks, two men of a wild and forbidding aspect. 

“Drive the goats home, Beppino,” said the 
old man, handing him his staff. Then he whis- 


So 


PILLONE. 


pered hastily a couple of words in the ear of the 
other, and turned to me saying, I will go with 
you, if you on your part will put up with a feeble 
old man. The way leads here to the left.” 

We walked beside each other for awhile, both 
in deep silence. At last he said, How did 
you happen to come upon so out of the way a 
spot, where the foot of a stranger seldom strays ? 
Are you not afraid of Pillone and his people ?” 

I told him my misfortune with my ass, and 
added that I was a poor artist, who had nothing 
to fear, since it would hardly pay Pillone to take 
me. 

'' Don’t say that,” replied my companion with 
a peculiar smile. Pillone prizes art highly ; he 
has been a painter himself.” 

''Really!” said I, half surprised, half in irony. 
" Do you believe, then, that he still keeps him- 
self in this region, when from Maffo to Sorrento 
the whole country swarms with police-soldiers 
and gendarmes ” 

The old man shrugged his shoulders. " Have 
you come across a gendarme up here anywhere ? ” 
he asked with a sarcastic tone. "Would all the 
police-soldiers in the world be able to save you 
now, if we should meet Pillone at this moment ? 
On the highways you meet everywhere the police 


PILLONE. 


8l 


and their spies ; but Pillone is no highway rob- 
ber.” 

‘‘What is he, then.?” I asked. 

“A king!” answered the old man proudly. 
“Where the myrtle unfolds its dark-green leaf, 
and the yellow broom its iJlossoms, there begins 
Pillone’s wide-extended realm. Do you see those 
far-off lines of hills which rise one behind the 
other in blue, cloud-like forms, ever higher and 
more massive, till they lose themselyes in the wild, 
torn crests which form the Apennines ? That 
is Pillone's endless kingdom ; there lives his 
people, and there he is unrestricted ruler. If he 
dies, he chooses his successor; but there will 
always be found one to be king in these hills, 
and who can extend the bounds of his kingdom 
if he has the spirit and the capacity for it.” 

“ But do you not believe, then,” I asked, “that 
the Piedmontese will make speedy end of this 
disorder which has desolated Italy since the days 
of the middle ages .? Under Victor Emmanuel, 
things will not go on as under the Bourbons, who 
left the robbers to themselves.” 

The old man straightened himself up — he 
seemed at once to become twenty years younger. 
“ The Piedmontese I ” he repeated with a look 
that flashed contempt ; “ think you that we con- 


82 


PILLONE. 


cern ourselves about the Piedmontese, or dream 
of obeying them ? They are strangers among 
our people ; tyrants, as the Spaniards were of 
old. What have they brought to our fruitful, 
happy land ? New imposts, new taxes, new 
laws, new miseries ! Let Victor Emmanuel come 
hither, let him as a wanderer or fugitive seek a 
refuge in these regions which he calls his land ; 
no hand will offer him bread, no one slake his 
thirst, no hut, not even the humblest, open its 
door to give him shelter against the cold and the 
dampness of the night. Let, on the other hand, 
the proscribed Pillone come, — whom the Pied- 
montese call robber and bandit, while they forget 
that they themselves have "stolen the ground on 
which they stand, — everywhere he will find 
friends, everywhere devoted followers, every- 
where a hiding-place; even the poorest day- 
laborer will share his bread with him, and let 
him drink of his wine ; and when he sleeps, a 
hundred men stand ready to guard and to defend 
him. Therefore I call' Pillone the king of the 
hills ; let Victor Emmanuel keep the cities and 
the valleys for himself.’’ 

You seem to be very familiar with Pillone’s 
affairs, old man,” I replied, and sought to keep 
pace with my companion, who, in the heat of his 


PILLONE. 


83 


discourse, had quickened his gait, and now was 
leading me through a chaos of rocky clefts, which 
made a by no means agreeable impression upon 
me. You have perhaps seen Pillone, and know 
something of his life, since you assert that he 
has been a painter.” 

‘‘ I see Pillone every day,” said the herdsman, 
as calmly as if it were the most indifferent thing 
in the world. I hardly believe there is any one 
who loves him more than I. He has been good 
to me, aye, he has given me all that I have ; and 
as for his life, I hardly thipk you will find any 
one who. can tell you more of it than I.” 

‘'You cannot be his father.^” I cried in sur- 
prise. 

" No,” replied the herdsman ; " Pillone's father 
died early, but I have, however, seen him. Not 
from this source comes my information.” 

. "I hope you do not make a secret of it,” I 
remarked ; " it would be interesting to me to hear 
what you know of the life and deeds of this 
man.” 

"If r should tell you all that I know of it, it 
would certainly be tedious to you,” replied my 
companion with an ironical smile. "And how 
should it be able to interest a stranger to hear of 
a man whom in his heart he holds a bandit, and 


84 


PILLONE. 


whose life he will not understand, because he 
does not know the life and peculiarities of the 
people among whom this man has grown up ? 
But if it gives you pleasure, I will tell you briefly 
what has made Pillone that which he is, — with 
that you must be content/' % 

The old herdsmaa bent down and plucked a 
couple of wild roses that were blooming upon 
the rock; he gave me one, stuck the other in his 
hat, and then went on in a low, confidential tone; 
‘‘ Pillone's father was called Vittorio, and was a 
herdsman in Amalfi. He had a herd which 
belonged to his employer, a hut which belonged 
to him, who had rented the pasture, and two 
pails which belonged to himself. With these last 
he went every day down from the heights, to sell 
milk in Amalfi, and when they were empty, he 
returned every evening with money enough* to 
prolong his life till the next day, and pay his 
dues for goats and hut on Saturday. He became, 
therefore, never richer than he was, and since 
one cannot well go to housekeeping with two 
milch goats and a bagpipe, he thought t)f noth- 
ing of the kind, but let love alone, although, as 
people said, he was the best-looking fellow on 
this side the hills. One morning he came to 
Amalfi to sell milk to the old notary, who lived 


PILLONE. 


85 


on the market place and was his best customer. 
There he learned that the old man was dead ; 
that was a hard blow to him, for the notary had 
promised him two goats when he next blew the 
novena before his door on the holy Christmas 
festival. He went therefore over to the other 
side of the market place, where the new notary 
from Naples was said to live, and at the foot of 
the steps met a young .maiden with an empty 
pitcher. It was the daughter of the notary, and 
love flashed in her eyes from the first moment 
in which she saw him. Vittorio went home with 
empty pails and a new customer, but that evening 
he did not play to his goats as usual, and as the 
sun sank down far off in the sea, he went again 
to Amalfi, and bought on credit a rifle, which 
he hid in his hut. Fourteen days later, the 
daughter of the notary had disappeared, Vit- 
torio’s hut was empty, and the goats were gone; 
people said the absconding pair were lying hid in 
the ravines over on Monte San Angelo, and that 
was likely enough, for there Pillone was brought 
into the world by his dying mother. His cradle 
was a rock which the mountain stream had hol- 
lowed out, his bedding the rags which his mother 
had worn, and his nurse one of the goats which 
Vittorio yet had left. For lullaby, he had only 


86 


PILLONE. 


the sea that murmured in the distance and the 
wind that whistled among the ravines and hol- 
lows of the rocks. So Pillone grew up. 

When he was two years old, Vittorio slaugh- 
tered the child’s nurse, and gave him a coat of 
her skin ; when he counted four years, he taught 
him to say his Ave, and to take off his cap before 
the image of the Holy Virgin; and when he was 
eight years old, there was no longer a rocky 
path, a ravine, a gorge, which he did not know 
as well as his father did ; and as for the rifle, his 
bullet brought the eagle down from the air, when 
in the grey of the morning he left his nest on 
the highest pinnacle of the rocks. About this 
time Vittorio thought that probably another 
notary had come to Amalfi, and as the holy feast 
drew near, he considered whether he might not 
once again, as for.merly, be able to play the novena 
down there ; the more that Pillone possessed a 
voice like the wild thrush of the hills, and blew 
the reed-pipe better than any herdsman in the 
region around. He therefore took the boy on 
his lap one evening, just as the sun was going 
down in that heavenly blue sea, whose shores 
and jutting hills were red as flashing gold. He 
told him of his dead mother, with what fidelity 
she had followed the man she loved, how she had 


, PILLONE. 


87 


shared all with him, how she had suffered and 
endured, till she, the high-born signora, unused 
to the hardships and deprivations of the hill-life, 
sank under them shortly after her child's birth. 
He showed the boy her grave far back in the 
rocky ravines where the ferns grew, he made 
him kiss the cross which his father had hewn in 
the rock above the spot, he made him pray by 
his side, and from this moment Pillone was 
a map; all the joy of childhood was dead within 
his soul. His father remarked it, and’ sought 
to soothe the heavy-hearted sorrow which had 
taken possession of him — but all in vain; the 
son had felt that misery, injustice, and tyranny 
existed in the earth ; that at his feet lay a world 
which he might not enter, and that the life 
among the bald, grey rocks, with their few 
birds and flowers, was not worth living. He 
became gloomy, silent, and reserved, his look 
took on a wild, defiant expression ; only when he 
seized his herdsman’s flute, and made its soft, 
melancholy notes echo down into the valley, only 
then did he gain peace, only then could he weep, 
and in these tears he found relief, as in nothing 
else he had yet known. 

‘‘Vittorio became anxious when he saw this 
alteration in his son ; he feared that the spirits 


88 


PILLONE.. 


of the hills might bdwitch him altogether, and 
one morning, when the snow began to gleam upon 
the mountain peaks in the distance, and Christ- 
mas was near, he gave the boy a new sheepskin, 
stuck fresh roses in his hat, and bound strong 
goatskin sandals under his feet. He himself 
took his old half-forgotten bagpipe, pressed his 
son’s shepherd’s flute into his hand, and after 
they had each cut a stick of the tough olive 
wood, they took their way toward Naples ; there, 
thought Vittorio, his son would comje to himself 
again.- 

“ You have probably heard the pifferari, when 
they go through the streets of Rome and Naples 
at Christmas time to sing their song of praise 
before the blessed image of the Holy Virgin. 
But have you ever seen with what great, bewil- 
dered eyes such a . shepherd’s boy can stare about 
him while he plays his accompaniment to the 
wailing notes of the bagpipe ? Pillone forgot for 
the moment everything, — his hills, his rifle, his 
eagles ; aye, even the sea, and the rocky ravine 
with the grave of his mother, fell for the moment 
into the background before all these new and 
unwonted glories, which unfolded themselves 
before his eyes. He had never believed that 
life could be so rich, so luxurious, so hilarious 


PILLONE. 


89 


and stirring, as in this great city, whose waves, 
like those of the sea, even by night toss in 
tumultuous breakers. He was intoxicated by all 
the splendor, the glitter and magnificence that 
here beamed upon him from every window, and 
which was so different from the bare, grey sur- 
face of the hills, among which he had hitherto 
moved. All was new : men, beasts, aye, even 
the flowers which he saw behind the gilded 
iron railings of the palaces. All was rich, 
stately, and great, even down to the soldiers, 
who with gilded helmets kept guard before the 
royal palace. The Toledo Street was a palace of 
fairies, and when in the evening it shone with 
the brilliance of a thousand lamps and lanterns, 
when the firelight glanced from the booths of the 
maccaroni dealers and the garland-adorned win- 
dows of the pizzicaroli, the radiant glory of life 
seemed to pour itself out for his enjoyment, and 
he only wondered why the goldsmiths placed the 
sparkling diamonds at a distance within the 
windows, where he could not take them away 
with him. 

A pifferari has no home on his fugitive wan- 
derings ; he roves about, now here, now there ; 
seeks his nightly couch now in ’a doorway, now 
under the starry heavens, with the bagpipe under 


12 


90 


PILLONE. 


his head. So he wanders through the great city, 
wheresoever the madonna leads his steps, and so 
wandered Vittorio with his son from morning 
till evening. 

One day they had come toward sundown upon 
the rising grounds which above are crowned by 
the powerful fortress, San Elmo, and here they 
pitched their camp for the night beside some 
gun carriages which lay overturned in the grass. 
When morning broke, the whole monstrous city 
lay glancing in the sun-light at their feet ; the 
hum of myriad voices, the clangor of church bells, 
and the roll of drums came up subdued through 
the blue smoke clouds to their airy resting-place, 
whence one saw the sea winding its dark blue, 
watery belt between Cape Misene and the prom- 
ontory of Sorrento, while Capri and Ischia stood 
out against the horizon like blue morning clouds. 
The eyes of the boy were filled with tears as his 
glance passed from Vesuvius, along the shore 
dotted with towns, to the barren Monte San 
Angelo, where lay the home of his childhood 
and the grave of his mother. He prayed softly 
to himself, but at the same time he could not 
suppress the wish to possess at least one of these 
splendid palaces, only one of these fragrant 
gardens, whose golden fruits had excited the 


PILLONE. 


91 


cravings of the boy. He asked himself why his 
father and he should lead the life of eagles, 
which, exposed to the bullet of the hunter, must 
seek their precarious food above the summits of 
the rocks ; he pondered long why just he, above 
others, should be so poor and forsaken, while 
thousands reveled in wealth and superfluity, 
clothed themselves in silk and rustling satin. 
The whole magnificence of the world, the fairest 
spot which the world possesses, lay spread out 
at his feet, — he himself hardly possessed* the 
right to set foot on it. It was the tempter who 
came to him and said, ‘All this shall be thine, 
if thou wilt fall down and worship me ; ' and he 
prayed again, prayed to the Virgin, but he could 
not yet turn his eyes from the glorious palaces 
and the white villas, dazzling in the morning 
sunlight. 

“ Suddenly there sounded behind him meas- 
ured steps, loud commands, and the clank of 
chains. Between the tall, stately gendarmes, 
whom he had so admired before San Carlo, came 
four sunburned men in ragged mantles, and with 
wild defiance in their flashing eyes. Their hands 
were loaded with chains, on one foot they bore a 
cannon ball, that rolled heavily after them in the 
sand, and as they went past, they spat at the 


92 


PILLONE. 


boy, distorted their features, and uttered such 
horrible curses that in terror he waked his 
father and asked him what sort of people these 
were. Vittorio half concealed himself behind 
the gun carriage, cast a look over it, and whis- 
pered that they were galley-slaves, led down 
from the fort to the harbor, where they were 
to undergo their punishment. But what were 
galley-slaves ? They were robbers, declared Vit- 
torio, people who had plundered the rich, and 
broken into their villas to rob them of their gold. 
Pillone asked no more ; he became pale as death 
and wondered within himself whence had come 
the gold-pieces which he had now and then seen 
in his father's hands, when the latter had come 
home at night to the cave without another bullet 
for his rifle. Pillone asked not ; he only stared 
at the dark and frowning fort, with its fathom- 
thick walls and its windows heavily barred. At 
this moment he felt that he was the son of a 
robber ; he felt, with the instinctive penetration 
of a child, why it was that his father had hidden 
himself behind the gun carriage. A rusty can- 
non ball lay in the grass close by Vittorio's foot ; 
only the chain seemed to be wanting, and with 
a stifling sensation of terror and horror, of sor- 
row and hopeless despair, he clung to his father's 


PILLONE. 


93 


hand as he walked beside him along the ditch 
which encircles the 'fort. 

Vittorio, on the other hand, had regained his 
entire composure as the escort disappeared ; aye, 
he even seemed to take a certain pleasure in 
defying the fear which for a moment had over- 
powered him. ‘We will play something to the 
poor prisoners within,’ said he. ‘They too shall 
know that it is Christmas.’ With trembling, Pil- 
lone followed his father through the narrow, for- 
bidding door of the fortress, where the sentry> 
with fixed bayonets, barred their progress, and it 
was not till the warden had given permission 
that they were allowed to play before the image 
of the madonna that was erected close beside 
the entrance. Here they placed their hats upon 
the ground, crossed themselves, and then drew 
forth the bagpipe and the flute*. The tones echoed 
but sadly and forlornly in the gloomy court-yard 
of the fort, where they had no other listeners than 
the dark walls, and where no bright coin fell into 
the hat. Just as they were on the point of going, 
the warden with his little daughter appeared and 
begged them to play the novena once more. 
They played, and the daughter listened. It was a 
little eight-year old maiden, tender and delicate, 
as if she never came out into the air, and with 


94 


PILLONK. 


the most wonderful black eyes that one can 
imagine.. She was not like the other children 
whom Pillone had seen below in the streets. 
Her skin was white and pure, her movements 
were light and graceful, and what above all in 
the eyes of the boy lent her a wonderful, beam- 
ing radiance, was her long hair, which she wore 
flowing loose down her back and which fell 
almost to her feet. It was* not black, such as he 
had been accustomed to see; its hue was of 
ruddy gold, and as with light, swaying movement 
she began with varying steps to dance before 
him to the quivering notes of the bagpipe, it 
seemed as if she hovered in a morning cloud, as 
if a halo encircled her head. Pillone was breath- 
less; he could hardly continue his playing, so 
shaken was he by the changing moods of the 
morning. He gazed fixedly at the light, childish 
form, which continued to flit about him, and 
at last it seemed to him as if the little Christ-' 
child must have a sister, who had come down 
from heaven to comfort him in his trouble. 

She stood still and laid a bright silver coin in 
his hat. It was the first silver coin he had ever 
possessed, and his father said he should keep it 
himself. Just as he stooped, beaming with joy, 
to pick it up, an ugly, pock-marked boy came 


PILLONE. 


95 


running across the court, knocked him over with 
a cuff, and kicked his hat to a distance, so that 
the silver coin rolled into the gutter. Pillone 
stood up with deadly pale face ; it was -the first 
time any one had inflicted wrong and injustice 
upon him. The boy seemed not to heed his 
threatening look ; he rushed upon the little 
maiden, seized her by both shoulders, and shook 
her back and forth, declaring her father should 
get a sound rating for letting such vagabonds 
into the castle. The little maiden screamed and 
struggled to get free; but he went on shaking 
her, and at the same time kicked at Pillone so 
that his flute flew out of his hand. At this 
instant, there thrilled through Pillone an electric 
glow; he shot forward like an eagle from his 
perch ; he heard a whimpering cry, and at the 
same moment his opponent lay flung backward 
upon the earth; but in his fall he had struck 
one of the sharp iron palings before the image 
of the Madonna, the red blood ran over the 
flags — he was mortally hurt. 

Toward evening Pillone and his father left 
the gloomy and sinister fort. The affair had been 
investigated, and the conviction reached that the 
fatal wound was the result of a mischance, which 
no one could have foreseen. One of those pres- 


96 


PILLONE. 


ent, however, — the father of the boy, — had borne 
himself like a madman, and as Pillone passed 
down the narrow, dusky passage, he thought he 
stfll saw the pallid face and glittering eyes that 
had glared upon 'him at the hearing. He was 
walking perhaps ten paces in front of his father, 
oppressed, unhappy, full of inarticulate consci- 
entious pangs. Suddenly there was a rustling 
behind him, he felt himself seized by the throat, 
a knife flashed before him, and in the next instant 
the herdsman’s flute was split in pieces on his 
breast, without further harm to him ; he fell to 
the earth with a cry. Again he saw the knife 
flash over his head. Then appeared his father. 
Pillone saw him wrestling, fighting, falling ; he 
heard cries and curses, sighs, and the death-rattle. 
At last one of the two tore himself loose, and 
fled down a side street. Pillone sprang to the 
spot, bent over the corpse, tore the corner of the 
mantle from its face, and saw — his father. From 
this moment the passionate longing to avenge 
his only friend took complete* possession of his 
desolate soul. 

''That night Pillone had a dream, which he 
never forgot. It seemed as if he stood again 
beside the old fort, and looked out over the city, 
but the gun carriages lay no longer overturned in 


PILLONE. 


97 


the grass, — they stood rather ranged beside each 
other, and upon each rested a polished bronze 
cannon, whose muzzle was pointed threateningly 
upon the city ; below in the city there was no 
uproar or tumult, — all was still, and the eyes of 
all were turned questioning and anxious up to- 
ward the dark fortress, whose cannon could in a 
moment convert the city into a heap of ruins. 
It seemed to Pillone as if he had only to beckon 
in order that the work of destruction should be- 
gin, and he felt within him a fiery pleasure in 
giving this signal, in hurling himself, like a de- 
mon of vengeance, on these people who reveled 
in wealth and superfluity ; then there sounded 
below, upon the path by which he had seen the 
galley-slaves disappear, a soft and low-toned mel- 
ody, which filled his eyes with tears ; a strange 
procession moved slowly up the height, — it was 
like one of the great church displays which now 
and then he had seen from the hills, and which 
he had so often wished to accompany ; but in- 
stead of the little angel-children which at other 
times led the procession down in Amalfi, walked 
here a slender and shining maiden, with a glanc- 
ing crown upon her long, flowing, golden-yellow 
hair. 

‘‘The procession drew near; it grew, and ex- 
13 


PILLONE. 


panded ; it was like a sea of human beings that 
flowed about him ; on all sides rang out exulting 
cries ; flowers and handkerchiefs were flung in 
air ; women lifted up their children that they 
might see him ; and, in the midst of the deafen- 
ing vivas, the young maiden advanced before him, 
bowed low, and said, ‘ Hail to Pillone ! Hail to 
the King of Naples!' Then the whole human 
sea broke forth in loud rejoicings, and a delirium 
of triumphant joy thrilled through his heart ; he 
felt himself raised aloft and borne upon strong 
arms before the excited throng. The procession 
passed through the narrow gate of the fortress 
into the court-yard of the prison ; but this was no 
longer sombre and gloomy as before: the iron 
bars had been transformed into festive balconies, 
thronged with spectators ; banners waved every- 
where ; brilliant horsemen kept guard, and in 
the midst of the court a splendid throne, draped 
with silk, had been erected, whose pillars sup- 
ported a velvet canopy, under which hung by an 
iron chain a golden crown which sparkled with 
diamonds. Pillone ascended the steps, placed 
himself upon the throne, and all was still as 
death. He was about to speak, he was about to 
greet his people, but at this moment it seemed 
as if all thought, voice, and words forsook him. 


PILLONE. 


99 


for there, hear the image of the madonna, which 
rose high above the throng, he saw among the 
stones a dark red stain of blood ; it grew, became 
larger and larger, and in proportion as it spread, 
the multitude, with looks of horror, drew back 
and pointed to it. Then the young maiden with 
the golden hair advanced, but the blood-stain 
spread ; her foot slipped, she fell ; her garments 
were wet with the blood, and the golden circlet 
fell from her head and rolled to the foot of the 
throne ; at the same time was heard a terrible 
cry, the earth trembled and shook, it was as if a 
peal of thunder rolled over his head ; the throne 
tottered under him, the iron chains broke, and 
the golden crown fell with crushing force upon 
his head. All became dark, and he awoke. 

'‘At the first moment it was impossible for him 
to collect his thoughts. The heavens were gray 
as lead, the earth quivered under him, women 
and children ran wailing hither and thither, the 
air was like a storm-tos'sed, roaring sea, and every- 
where fell a hail of roof -tiles and shattered window- 
panes. He flung himself among the crowd, was * 
carried away with the stream, and came down to 
the harbor, whence he had a view of Vesuvius. 
The mountain was veiled in smoke and gray 
steam, and out of the heavy masses of vapor 


lOO 


PILLONE. 


darted forth lightnings and ruddy flames. Yel- 
lowish streams of lava were rolling down to the 
foot of the mountain like hissing snakes, hidden 
in smoke and steam, and soon the proud villas 
which he had so coveted were glowing like burn- 
ing funeral pyres, which cast the red light of 
their flames over the gray gulf. It was a scene 
of calamity and desolation, of terror and shud- 
dering horror, beyond all description. He thought 
the world must come to an end, and he wished 
it might, for the heaviest burden of misery 
weighed upon his spirit and crushed his heart. 
But this did not come to pass ; hungry and home- 
less, alone and forsaken, he wandered about 
among these frightful scenes, begging from door 
to door, till at length on the seventh day he 
reached Amalfi — there surely he was at home. 

‘‘At home.^ He no longer had a home. In 
Amalfi there was no one who would recognize 
him, no one to whom he could turn ; people re- 
membered well the goat-herd Vittorio, who eight 
ye'ars before had disappeared with the daughter 
of the notary ; but bow should he prove that he 
was his son ? He was examined, imprisoned, 
and finally turned over to the public care. By 
the municipality this was vouchsafed him in the 
usual way. There is no home for the poor, no 


PILLONE. 


lOI 


roof that can give him shelter, no sympathizing 
heart to take pity on him in his trouble. Every- 
thing is settled, once for all, with a sum of money, 
and Pillone was legally disposed of, like any other 
public chattel which it was desired to get rid of 
as cheaply as possible. Out before the town 
there lived a fisherman, Petrucchio, — the rudest, 
coarsest, and most avaricious smuggler in all 
Amalfi, — and to him Pillone was given to board 
for a ducat a month. It was a life worse than a 
dog's ; but Pillone was to learn that to live is to 
suffer. 

‘'From this time forward there began quite an- 
othep world to open on his view. Had he with his 
father roamed through the mountain heights, and 
learned to know every ravine, Petrucchio taught 
him in the turn of a hand what the sea conceals 
in its darkest depths. Now he went out to, set 
nets ; now he accompanied the divers, who moved 
like wild-ducks under the shattered, rocky shores, 
to draw up from the bottom of the sea oysters, 
sponges, and slimy corals. He learned to use the 
oar, to swim, to dive, to reef a sail amid the buf- 
fetings of the tornado ; but what he best com- 
prehended and quickest learned was to know a 
revenue boat at the distance of miles, and to be 
at home upon the paths which the smugglers 


102 


PILLONE. 


followed in their nightly pursuits. From Amalfi 
to Salerno, from Salerno to Capri, from Capri to 
Ischia, Cape Misene, and Posilippo was for him 
like a flight of the gull over the sea, and among 
these hardened companions, to whom life is but 
a game, he himself became so hardened and bold 
that even Petrucchio regarded him with wonder- 
ing admiration, and chose him to be pioneer on 
the most dangerous adventures. All the narrow 
passes, all the reefs, and all the hidden grottoes 
formed in these steep and deeply-cleft shores, 
Pillone knew as well as his ave, and more than 
once had the smugglers to thank him for their 
safety ; but one night it came to a desperate 
combat with the agent of the customs, Petruc- 
chio was shot, and a few days later Pillone was 
again helpless and alone upon the market-place 
at Amalfi. 

** It is at times only trifles that produce a crisis 
in the life of a man, and this Pillone, too, experi- 
enced. On the market-place lived a little book- 
seller, in whose show window lay a couple of 
old books with half faded print. The boy had 
chosen this part of the market-place for his daily 
lounging place, because the sun shone warmer 
here in winter, and because the guests in the 
dirty caf6, now and then, when they left it, gave 


PILLONE. 


103 


him a copper or a bit of bread. But the time 
dragged heavily to the bright and active boy, 
for there was nobody to play with Petrucchio's 
adopted son, and he had no fancy for betaking 
himself a second time to the municipality. When, 
therefore, he had roamed about with the owner- 
less dogs that peopled the market-place, and now 
and then stilled his hunger by snatching from 
them a portion of their booty, he sought himself 
out a bit of ^oal from the street sweepings, and 
began to draw with it on the flags or the white- 
washed walls. One day he had fallen upon the 
idea of imitating on the wall the letters which he 
had seen in the window of the bookseller, and he 
had just become engaged in this work, when he 
felt that a hand tapped him confidentially on the 
shoulder. Since the death of his father he had 
not known the touch of a friendly hand, and so 
shy had the boy become, that he had almost, like 
the dogs, run from the spot, although a pair of 
mild inquiring eyes met his glance. It was the 
old amanuensis, who sat on the mole of the har- 
bor, and wrote letters for each and all, at ten 
tornese apiece. He wished now to extend his 
business, and as he saw that Pillone had a talent 
, for an art which in Amalfi rightly passed for 
especially difficult, he made him the offer to 


104 


PILLONE. 


initiate him into the mysteries of the craft, and 
Pillone accepted the proposition with joy, — he 
felt a secret pride that he was to learn to write. 

How different was the life that now opened 
on the lively boy, from that which he had hitherto 
led ! One might have thought that he had not 
patience enough, day after day to constrain his 
* nervous fingers to the imitation of those tortuous 
flourishes on which his pedantic teacher insisted 
as something essential to give the writing its 
due proportion; but Pillone labored as indus- 
triously as a bee, as faithfully as an ass ; he felt 
that in this secret art lay a mighty power, and 
that with the help of it he might reach a position 
from which he could rule over his former com- 
panions and equals ; aye, it was really this little 
word which filled the heart of the boy; he had 
learned what it is to be a slave. 

He passed from the old amanuensis to the 
office of the notary at Amalfi, and as he was 
accompanying the latter on a journey of business 
to Naples, the proposition was made to him to 
enter the service of one of the great advocates of 
the city, who had observed his capacity for work, 
and his keen intelligence. At last he stood at 
the goal. He was no longer the despised son of 
the goat-herd, who, with his herdsman’s flute. 


PILLONE. 


105 


went from door to door and bowed his thanks for 
a copper. He was signore, and was dressed in 
black clothes and lived in a palace ; but this was 
not enough — he wished to go farther. 

'' In Amalfi, he had read everything which the 
old bookseller had in his poor shop ; chronicles of 
saints and frivolous romances, popular songs and 
tales, all had passed through his brain like the 
fantastic forms of a magic lantern. Now came 
the turn of Tasso, Petrarch, Dante, and Metas- 
tasio ; it was a world of light and shade, of strange 
forms and great deeds, of the monsters of fable, 
of human hearts in their truest and tenderest 
feelings. How he congratulated himself that he 
had learned to read, and how he daily pitied the 
thousands for whom those poets were a buried 
treasure, whose existence they did not even sus- 
pect. Along with these studies, however, he 
did not neglect the others, which were to lead 
him to honor and power. When the noise of the 
day was over, and the cheerless offices were 
closed, he studied the learning of the law with a 
zeal and an assiduity that soon placed him in 
advance of all his companions. But soon he 
conceived a disgust for the barren technicalities 
and elaborate subtleties of this cunning art of 
hair splitting, whose only end seemed to be so to 


io6 


PILLONE. 


crack the nut of strife as to secure for its practi- 
tioners the kernel, while the unhappy disputants 
might make the most of the shells. Besides, in 
the practice of the advocate he was witness of 
many a trick, of many a false testimony, advan- 
tage taken of technical errors of the opposing 
party, by which not seldom the plainest right was 
perverted, to lay unjust burdens upon widows 
and orphans. The whole often seemed to him 
like a combat with poisoned weapons, in which 
one did not assail his foe on the open field, but 
waylaid him from an ambush, and from the dark 
offices with the dusty desks and mouldy piles of 
documents, he looked down with secret longing 
upon the elegantly uniformed officers, who 
marched at the head of their battalions to the 
royal palace. 

If now he was disgusted with the fine cobweb 
spinning of jurisprudence, he sought indemnifi^ 
cation in cultivating himself in other directions. 
He painted, he practiced music ; aye, he even 
several times came forward with applause among 
his companions as an actor and improvisator ; 
but all these things were for him only a pastime, 
which did not satisfy the ardent longing of his 
soul. The dream stood ever before him, in all 
its romantic splendor of coloring : to govern and 


PILLONE. 


107 


guide, to achieve great deeds, to become the 
recognized head of those about him, this it was 
that in waking and sleeping busied his thoughts. 
But how to attain it.^ He was after all, if it 
came to the point, the son of the goatherd and 
robber. Who would take service with him ? 

‘‘Amid these ambitious dreams, which often 
gave him no rest, there stole over him at times 
a soft and melancholy mood that had power to 
make him weak as a child. He had never for- 
gotten the tgnder, wondrous child form, which 
in the prison yard had danced to the notes of his 
herdsman's flute. She must now be a well-grown 
maiden, fair as she whom he had seen in the 
well -remembered dream. How often had he 
thought of her, while in the dark nights he kept 
watch on the smuggler s boat, or lay on the look- 
out on some lonely reef, while the waves sighed 
at^his feet ! How astonished would she be, if 
she should meet him again and see the change 
that had taken place in him. He inwardly 
longed for the hour when this should happen. 
For he felt in his deepest soul that only she 
could be the queen of his heart. But when and 
under what relations would they meet each 
other Since the first day on which he had 
come to Naples, he had searched street and lane 


io8 


PILLONE. 


without finding a trace of her. He had even, 
though reluctantly, ventured into the repulsive 
prison yard, where his hand had shed its first 
blood. The old warden was dead, and of his 
daughter, la bella Filomela, it was merely known 
that she had gone to relatives among the moun- 
tains. He sought out her relatives, but received 
only the information that she had returned to 
Naples, no one knew to what point. 

It was an evening in carnival. The long To- 
ledo Street had the whole day through been filled 
with gayly reveling masks, who now thronged 
to the San Carlo theatre, where a magnificent 
masked ball — the last of the carnival week — was 
to take place. The theatre was brilliantly lighted ; 
out yonder in the market-place catharine-wheels 
and Roman candles were crackling among the 
throng, through which Pillone was seen advancing 
at the head of a band of maskers, who meant to 
celebrate the last night of the carnival till morning 
light. Within the theatre was gathered all that 
Naples possessed of youth and beauty, and among 
these ostentatious maskers Pillone glided soli- 
tary, separated from his friends, haunted by his 
fixed idea, the desire to achieve power and fame, 
and then in his triumph to find and crown the 
queen of his heart. Suddenly a party-colored 


PILLONE. 


109 


harlequin tapped him on the shoulder, pointed 
to a corner, where a fountain was plashing, 
and the dark-green leaves of the orange-trees 
cast their shade, and vanished with a mocking 
laugh. Pillone went nearer, and peered in be- 
neath the leaves. At a richly-covered table sat 
two persons ; one was a young man, dressed in 
the extravagant costume of the Venetian nobles. 
He was leaning negligently'' back, while his lips 
touched the champagne-glass which he held in 
his hand ; by his side sat a young woman in 
azure silk, and a pearl - embroidered veil that 
flowed down over dazzling shoulders ; flashing 
jewels sparkled on her breast ; she had laid aside 
her mask, and on her golden hair, interwoven 
with garlands of noblest pearls, was cradled a 
dark-red rose with dew-drops of diamonds. 

‘‘ Pillone advanced, hesitating, a step nearer, 
and cautiously bent aside the branches. There 
was no doubt — thus, then, it was they were to 
meet. A rich spendthrift, the prodigal son of a 
powerful nobleman, it was, beside whom she sat. 
Pillone felt his heart turn to ice ; it throbbed as if 
it would burst, but in the next moment it flashed 
up in wild flames leaping for revenge. He went 
home, concealed a dagger about his person, and 
then returned again to the gay carnival scene. 


no 


PILLONE. 


Two hours later, a splendid coach drew up be- 
fore the entrance of the theatre, the Venetian 
noble and his companion entered it, and the car- 
riage drove at a sharp trot to the Giardino Reale, 
without any one’s taking offense that, in the gay 
carnival night, a pulcinello in white stood be- 
hind as footman. The door of the palace was 
reached ; the pulcinello sprang down, and stepped 
to the door of the carriage, which he hastily 
pulled open. The nobleman descended first — 
a sudden gleam of steel, and he lay dead in his 
blood. The pulcinello seized the reins, swung 
himself with a spring upon the box, dashed down 
the coachman, and a few seconds later the car- 
riage had disappeared on the road to Posilippo. 
On the next day nothing was talked of but the 
murder, on the previous night, of the promising 
son of the Prince Cesarini. Thenceforth a place 
stood empty at one of the high desks in the 
office of the advocate Capparelli, and Pillone 
became that which he is, king of smugglers and 
ruler of the hills.” 

The old herdsman stood still, straightened him- 
self to his full height, and, regarding me fixedly, 
asked in quite another voice, ‘‘ Do you know me 
now 


PILLONE. 


I I I 


Pillone ! ’’ cried I, falling back in astonish- 
ment. 

'' Even so/’ said he smiling, and with a move- 
ment of his hand stripping off the white beard. 
''You should be enrolled among the Neapolitan 
police, if you have not been able to observe that 
my hair was wool, and my beard the hair of my 
own goats. Now look about you ! Where think 
you that we are 

I looked about me ; anything more picturesque 
I had seldom seen. Lofty detached masses of 
rock rose perpendicularly above us on all sides. 
Little rills, which in spring changed to sturdy 
cataracts, trickled down with a light murmuring 
sound, and were encompassed throughout their 
course by waving ferns and long, pendent Venus- 
hair. The inequalities and depressions in the 
rocky wall corresponded exactly to like projec- 
tions in that opposite. Everywhere the moun- 
tain was, as it were, rent and torn by numerous 
clefts and passages, often so narrow that only 
one man at a time could make his way through 
them. One received at the first glance the full 
impression that at some time long past a mighty 
earthquake had torn these masses asunder, and 
there came over me almost a secret dread lest 
these narrow ravines might suddenly shut us in 


II2 


PILLONE. 


and forever cut us off from the world. Now 
first I comprehended why in Italy it is impossi- 
ble to maintain the supremacy of the law and 
the public safety. Here were rents, fissures, 
outlets on all sides, and in these blind passages 
even the bravest soldier would be lost. A hand- 
ful of sharp-shooters, posted on the heights, 
would be sufficient to defend this modern Ther- 
mopylae. 

Pillone observed with visible satisfaction the 
surprise which expressed itself in my features. 
‘‘You are now my prisoner,”ffie said, and laid 
his hand upon my shoulder ; “ what have you to 
offer as ransom 

I answered, in bewilderment, that I was poor, 
and possessed nothing of any considerable value. 

“ Think you that I wish money ” he said with 
a proud look, letting fall his hand. “ Do I not 
know that you are an artist.^ Have you not 
once warned me against my enemies, and anoth- 
er time saved my life ? Money ! What would 
Pillone with the meagre purse of a poor artist ? 
Had you answered that you bestowed upon me 
your friendship, that would have been a fairer 
gift, and a more valuable one for Pillone, who 
never yet took a copper from the needy.” 

“ If there is anything else in which I can serve 


PILLONE. 


II3 


you, I will do it with joy,’' I replied. ‘‘You 
have, by your narrative, given me a greater proof 
of confidence than I had any right to expect.” 

“Listen to me,” he said, as he made me sit 
down upon a rock and laid his hand confiden- 
tially on my shoulder ; “ I believe I possess the 
gift of knowing my man at first sight, and on 
the evening on the promontory at Posilippo, 
when perhaps I should have sent a bullet through 
the head of any one else, there lay in your whole 
presence something which at once enchained and 
attracted me. When we met a second time, I 
conceived a confidence in you which also was 
justified by the event; and now, when we come 
together the third time, you have it in your 
power to do me a service which I will richly 
reward.” 

“I ask no reward,” I replied briefly; “if I can 
serve you in anything that does not run contrary 
to my conscience, it will be a pleasure to me.” 

“The matter is very simple,” he answered; 
“for what I ask is only the answer to a question 
which you alone are able to give me; but this 
answer I must have, for the doubt has consumed 
me like fire. In order to obtain this answer, I 
have misled you to-day, and brought you hither. 
You need not, however, be indignant; if it had 
IS 


II4 


PILLON-E. 


not happened to-day, it would to-morrow or the 
next day, for my people had orders to seize you 
where they could, were it in Sorrento itself, and 
such an order I never give in vain.'' I looked at 
him in astonishment, bewildered by this strange 
introduction ; but he fixed his keen, penetrat- 
ing eyes upon me, and said slowly, “Tell me 
only one thing : what did you wish in the villa 
morta ? " 

“ You know that ? " I cried, and sprang up. 

“Keep your seat," he said, and drew me down 
by his side. “Your answer has freed my breast 
from a heavy load of doubt. It is you, then, 
who have penetrated by the secret passage into 
the galleries ? " 

“Yes," I answered frankly, “it was I." 

“ Zounds ! " exclaimed he, regarding me with 
attention. “You are an adroit man, and a bold 
one, whom Pillone might well wish his friend ; 
it was, however, a piece of good fortune for you 
that you did not find me at home. Had I seen 
a stranger approaching in the darkness, I should 
certainly have blown out his lamp of life with a 
pistol." 

“ But how could you suspect that it was pre- 
cisely I who had penetrated into the villa ? " I 
asked curiously. 


PILLONE. 


IIS 

By signs of many kinds/' he answered, smil- 
ing. '‘When one leads such a life as I do, he 
becomes accustomed to pay heed to trifles. In 
the first place, the door was not shut in the way 
in which I generally shut it, and that aroused my 
suspicions. I looked about me and found the 
mark of your three-legged camp-stool imprinted 
in the sand not twenty steps from the image of 
the madonna, and the track of your own feet in 
the moist earth before it; and lastly," added 
Pillone, with a sly smile, as he drew forth a 
small object wrapped in paper, "lastly, I found 
this lying on the sill of the door, and that told 
me the rest." 

He opened the paper and took out a little 
round object, which I recognized at once. It 
was the leather button of my maul-stick, which 
I must have knocked off as I poked about with 
it under the holy image. 

"You see," said Pillone triumphantly, "that 
the matter was not so hard to unravel as one 
might think at the first glance. It was not your 
confession, therefore, for which I was anxious. 
No, what has distressed me is another question, 
which I hope you will answer as candidly as the 
first. Tell me, what were -you really seeking in 
the villa morta, and what induced you to enter a 
place that is feared by all.^" 


ii6 


PILLONE. 


I acknowledged openly, and without reserve, 
the motives of my nightly visit. I told him 
that my curiosity had been aroused by his dis- 
appearing without a trace in the rocky grotto. 
I described how I had found the secret entrance, 
and I told him with perfect candor how pro- 
foundly the old, deserted villa had affected me. 
He listened to me quietly, and with visible in- 
terest; when, however, at the close I touched 
upon the veiled female figure, and the impression 
her nocturnal wanderings had made upon my 
imagination, he seemed to be surprised, and an 
air of disquiet came over his features. 

‘‘Are you certain that you saw rightly 
asked he in a low voice. “Do you know defi- 
nitely that this woman, incredible as it seems, 
has penetrated into the villa 

“ I have seen her too often for any possibility 
that I can have deceived myself,” I answered. 
“The last gleam of the dark lantern always dis- 
appeared in the passage which leads down to the 
entrance of the villa ; whether, however, she 
penetrated into the interior of the building, I 
cannot say, for so far I have not followed her 
steps.” 

Pillone had risen. His face was pale as death, 
his breast heaved convulsively, and in his eyes 


PILLONE. 


II7 


flashed a fire that was more than baleful. Yes, 
it must be she,” he whispered with close -set 
teeth and hands that worked. ‘‘What wants she 
of me now.^ Has she not once already betrayed 
me.^ O my God, if I dared trust her!” 

He seemed not to heed my presence, but 
walked with disordered steps up and down in the 
narrow, rocky pass, like a tiger in his den. At 
length he stood still before me, and^said almost 
with tears, “You must do me a service, only a 
single one more, aijd I will ask you for nothing 
again. You know not what is at stake, and will 
perhaps never learn ; but for me it is of more 
importance than my life. You must be my spy. 
I have no one to whom I can trust this matter, 
excepting you. You have prudence, cunning, 
and courage ; you are honorable and seem kindly 
disposed toward me; leave me not therefore in 
extremity, but do what I now entreat of you. 
Go after the figure, when she next wanders 
through the vineyard, and do not lose sight of 
her for a moment. If she enters the villa, no 
matter how, follow her, but cautiously and with- 
out being seen. Learn what she does there by 
night, and let me know in a letter which you can 
deliver to the man upon the market-place, who 
wears a nicked peacock feather in his hat. Tell 


ii8 


PILLONE. 


me, have you the courage to do me this service, 
and are you willing to undertake the charge ? 

I bethought myself for a moment, but his brave 
face showed such an expression of disturbance, 
aye, almost of sadness, that I promised to ven- 
ture the attempt. He embraced me, and said. 
It is beginning to be dark ; make haste and 
return home. You need only to follow this cleft, 
it will lead you down into the deep ravine which 
borders the market-place of Sorrento. In three 
days I hope to hear from you ; if not, you will 
hear from Pillone, perhaps sooner than you ex- 
pect.” 

He pressed my hand, and I began my winding 
course down the dark, rocky path, pondering 
what he might have meant by the last, almost 
threatening, words. Suddenly stones rattled be- 
hind me, I heard quick steps, and Pillone stood 
again beside me. 

One word more before we part,” he said, in 
a voice which betrayed a violent emotion ; you 
will perhaps think that I am a great child, that 
I am superstitious ; but it is all one, I do not 
care. Take this,” he went on, as he undid a 
silver chain from his neck, and drew forth a little 
medallion ; '' it is a memento of my mother, the 
only visible one that has remained to me. Wear 


PILLONE. 


II9 


it constantly on your breast, and guard it well, 
for it is a charm that has always brought me 
good fortune, and has rescued me from many a 
danger; now you may need it.” 

He was about to hang the medallion about 
my neck, but I put his hand back, and said, ‘‘ Do 
you think that I will rob you of the last me- 
mento of a mother whom you loved Besides, 
if it protects you against danger and brings you 
good fortune, keep it yourself ; you may need it 
more than I.” 

‘‘ That is not so certain,” he said, with a pecul- 
iar look ; you do not know what may befall you, 
and in what dangers approaching emergencies 
may involve you. Besides, I do not think it is 
the last time that we shall meet, and if we see 
each other again, you can easily give it back to 
me. It will protect you against much evil ; and 
should you be assailed by any one who stands in 
my service, you have only to show it, and he 
will obey you implicitly. One word more. I 
wish, above all, that you procure me information 
who this woman is, and what she is doing here ; 
but I wish, at the same time, that you keep a 
watch upon her movements, without allowing 
her in the least to suspect it. Perhaps she is my 
enemy, perhaps my friend ; I do not yet know ; 


120 


PILLONE. 


but should she by any chance discover your pres- 
ence, show her my gift, and say, * Pillone knows 
how to love, but also how to avenge/ Farewell ! 
Now my fate lies in your hands.” 

He turned quickly about, and vanished in the 
nearest rocky path. I continued my toilsome 
course, constantly climbing down the cleft, till 
at last I reached the deep ravine which divides 
Sorrento. Here I drew breath more freely. In 
spite of the roughness of the way, and the 
darkness which made it still more laborious, I 
now found myself on familiar ground, and saw, 
with unmingled joy, the ruddy lights blinking 
up yonder on the market-place. Soon after I 
was at home with my honest Nicolo, who had 
awaited my return with great uneasiness, and 
who confided to me that Pillone certainly had 
some mischief on foot, since he had seen in the 
newspapers that a reward of ten thousand ducats 
had been set upon his head. Then he showed 
me up the stairs to my old, comfortable chamber, 
and when he had lighted the brightly-polished 
three-armed lamp, he left me with a heartfelt sigh 
over the dearness of the times and the godless- 
ness of the world. Hardly had he gone when I 
drew forth Pillone’s gift and examined it. It 
was an old-fashioned, well-worn saint’s medal- 


PILLONE. 


I2I 


lion upon a silver chain. On one side appeared 
Christ crucified between the thieves, and under- 
neath, ‘^To-day shalt thou be with me in Para- 
dise;” on the other side was to be seen a half- 
effaced crown of palm-leaves, in the centre of 
which, surrounded by three crosses, had been 
scratched with a knife, Pillone Rex.” It was 
not easy to say what he intended by it. 

This night I listened in vain for the hasty 
steps which had so often disturbed my sleep and 
fed my fancies. All was still as death, and on 
the next morning I learned from Nicolo, to my 
astonishment, that the strange signora had taken 
her departure as silently as she had come. Yet 
she could not apparently have gone far, since she 
had left her trunk, and had said she should come 
again in a few days. Down on the shore, I 
learned accidentally from Antonio that on the 
preceding evening a veiled signora had hired a 
boat, and that this had taken the direction of 
Procida. This was the whole result which I was 
able to attain, for the fisherman in question had 
not returned and was not expected till the fol- 
lowing evenings whether, however, the signora 
would come again with him, was not known. 

I was in painful uncertainty what I ought now 
to do, and several times thought of finding my 

i6 


122 


PILLONE. 


way back by the same rocky path, in order, if pos- 
sible, to meet with Pillone and bring him my 
report. For the man with the nicked peacock 
feather I searched in vain upon the market-place ; 
he was not there : probably Pillone had found 
that it was yet too soon to send him. 

The next night passed over just as quietly as 
its predecessor, and toward noon I did indeed 
see a fellow with a nicked peacock-feather stand- 
ing before the inn, and entertaining himself with 
one of the people there. I followed him, and 
when he entered a dirty cafd on the market-place, 
I went in, wrote a few words in pencil on a leaf 
of my note-book, and folded it together. Pres- 
ently he came toward me and held out his hat 
with a request for alms. I dropped in the paper 
with a couple of copper coins, and soon after 
saw him lounging up the narrow street which 
leads out of the town near Maffa. 

On the third night, just as I had gone to bed, 
I heard a carriage pull up before the inn door, 
and a few minutes later again sounded the light, 
hasty steps over my head. I rose, dressed 
myself noiselessly, seized my revolver and my 
lantern, and was speedily on my way by a circui- 
tous path down to the villa, where I hid myself 
behind the great oleander-bush, whose broken 


PILLONE. 


123 


twigs, wilted and dried, rattled in the wind. The 
night was dark, the sky covered with clouds, it 
blew strongly, and the cold was already very 
sensible. I resolved therefore to go into the 
villa, the more as I had reason to fear that on 
the spot which I had chosen, she might discover 
me by the light of the lantern. To my surprise 
I found the little gate this time fast shut, and 
so was obliged again to descend into the dark 
vaults, where was the secret entrance. This, 
too, presented many difficulties, which showed 
me that Pillone, at his last visit, had taken 
pains to secure the entrance; but at length I 
succeeded in moving the putstretched arm of 
the holy image, and soon after stood once more 
in those desolate chambers which had produced 
so uncanny an impression on me, when I trod 
them for the first time. 

Now, however, I was better informed, and 
when I considered that I should have the widest 
and freest outlook from the tower chamber, to 
observe the approach of the lantern, I first 
mounted up thither. To my surprise, the door 
was bolted, and every attempt to open it proved 
unavailing. Discouraged, I descended again the 
narrow stairway of the tower, turning over in 
my mind where I should now best take my stand. 


124 


PILLONE. 


in order to observe the solitary night-walker, 
without being seen by her. As I was passing by 
the door beside which the main stairway ended, 
and which must lead into the second story, I 
noticed by the glimmer of the lantern that a key 
stood in the keyhole. I turned it, and entered 
a large chamber, whose whole appointments soon 
led me to suspect that this must be the especial 
goal of the visits of the mysterious guest. It 
was a large, long room, hung with dark leathern 
tapestry, whose dim gold lilies here and there 
blinked faintly in the shimmer of the lantern. 
Both the barricaded windows looked toward the 
garden, and at the back of the room were three 
steps in a sort of alcove, which was separated 
from the body of the apartment by a heavy 
silken curtain, and which contained a faded vel- 
vet divan, and a worm-eaten table of Sorrentine 
make. It seemed to' have been used as a sort of 
family archive; for on a series of shelves still 
lay rolls of gilt paper which were bound together 
with green silk ribbons, and provided with waxen 
seals. The chamber itself, on the other hand, 
drew my attention much more, for everything 
pointed to the conclusion that here in old days 
had been collected all the essentials of a well- 
furnished study. Two richly-carved bookcases 


PILLONE. 


125 


stood stately with white parchment volumes on 
both sides of a large, old-fashioned secretary, 
inlaid with mother-of-pearl, tortoise-shell, and 
ivory, and in the midst of the floor stood a 
mighty writing table of oak, on which lay dusty 
papers and documents ; high-backed chairs, with 
covers of gilded leather, were placed here and 
there, and on the mantel, where the old rococo 
clock seemed only waiting to be wound up, stood 
a pair of bronze can delab ras, with stout, half- 
burnt wax-lights. But what most of all excited 
my wonder was a multitude of plans and charts, 
in part of Naples and its immediate neighbor- 
hood, in part of the fortress San Elmo, of the 
marine arsenal, and the neighboring Gastello 
d’Uovo; for these were not old, like all the rest, 
but, to judge by the color of the paper, manifestly 
freshly drawn. It was equally obvious that a 
part of the papers and books which covered the 
table could not have belonged to the original 
owner of the villa. They were all concerned 
with topography, or fortification, all were of very 
recent date, and as I hastily turned over a few 
of them, I saw that they bore on the margin 
notes that had been added by a firm and sure 
hand. 

A glance at the adjoining chambers convinced 


126 


PILLONE. 


me that I could not choose a better place for my 
purpose than the library. From its windows I 
had the view over the garden of the villa. I 
could retire into the garden if any one should 
come, and I could in any case easily reach the 
stairway, if I wished to withdraw. With much 
pains, I removed the rusty iron bar from the 
shutters, which opened inward, and raising the 
Venetian blind a little, I gained a free view not 
only over the garden and the vineyard, but to 
La Cocumella, whose undefined outlines stood 
out in the distance. 

It is always a dismal thing to wait at night 
and in the darkness, but the two hours which 
were now to creep over me were almost unbear- 
able. Out in the neglected garden all was so 
desolate, so autumnal, so filled with the still- 
ness of the night ! Only when the wind came 
wailing and sighing in sudden gusts from the 
strand, the hollow roar of whose surf was ever 
in my ear, only then came life into the black 
cypresses and pines ; they nodded and swayed, 
groaned and smote against each other, while the 
yellow leaves of the plane-trees whirled, rustling 
upward like spectral forms dancing once more 
through the myrtle hedges. Within the cham- 
ber where I stood, and where I could hear the 


PILLONE. 


127 


beating of my heart almost as plainly as the tick- 
ing of the watch which I held in my hand, it 
seemed likewise as if nocturnal spirits were play- 
ing their pranks. There was a jingling sound 
in the old clock on the mantel ; a cracking in the 
furniture, which for centuries had hardly stirred 
in its place ; there was boring and picking in the 
old wood-work, that for many years had not felt 
the reviving breath of fresh air and sunlight ; 
now and then, when a gust of wind drove through 
the Venetian blind, the draught stirred the old 
hanging charts and plans in a way that almost 
made me think I heard the rustle of silken gar- 
ments in the room. I listened to the long-drawn 
cry of the owls, to the muffled squeak of the 
bats, and watched each star that came into sight 
in the sky, only to be hidden by the fast-driving 
clouds. I strained my attention to catch the 
distant howl of the watch-dog from the vineyards 
above on the hill, and’ started as often as the 
droning sound, which at intervals the mighty 
blows of the surf sent up through the rocky 
grotto, made its way beneath the villa, and 
caused the building to tremble to its deepest 
foundations. 

At last the hour of two sounded from the old 
convent in Sorrento. I had seen the lights in La 


128 


PILLONE. 


Cocumella vanish one after another ; now there 
'was only one ruddy ray remaining, and this 
issued from one of the windows which lay in the 
wing just over my room. Finally this last feeble 
shimmer was extinguished, the inn was lost al- 
most completely in the darkness, and my heart 
beat with a violence that I was not able to con- 
trol. Then, high up among the vine-leaves, there 
twinkled a little red star ; it moved in a winding, 
serpentine course ; it came nearer, grew larger, 
and at last I heard the garden gate of the villa 
jar upon its rusty hinges. I bent all my atten- 
tion, and strove to pierce the darkness with my 
vision, but all that I saw was the same veiled 
form, which, with almost cat-like stealth, glided 
beneath the stiff laurel hedge, to vanish just as 
noiselessly, and with closed lantern, on the side 
of the villa which faced the sea. 

I had at once recalled my entire self-possession, 
my perfect coolness. It was with me as with 
the hunter who may tremble with expectation 
and impatience, but regains his sure glance and 
firm hand when he sees the cunning fox creeping 
from trunk to trunk. I heard the little gate in 
the lower story opened, and again cautiously 
shut. I heard light steps moving through the 
adjoining passage, and shortly after reach the 


PILLONK 


129 


Stair. I saw, through the crack of the door, the 
first red glimmer of the approaching dark-lantern, 
then I closed my own, and with a few steps had 
placed myself in the alcove, whose silken drapery 
I carefully drew behind me. My precautions 
were not in vain. The figure entered the library, 
and set down the lantern with a sigh which 
seemed to indicate relief from anxiety and ter- 
ror. Then she hastened to the mantel, seized 
both the heavy candelabra, placed them on the 
writing-table, lighted the tapers, and in an in- 
stant the desolate, uncanny chamber was trans- 
formed into a friendly, almost sociable working- 
room, where only a cheerful blaze on the hearth 
was wanting to render everything in the highest 
degree comfortable. I looked out from my 
hiding-place, and saw that I had not deceived 
myself : it was a woman who, from head to foot 
enveloped in black, had ventured to brave the 
dangers of the night and the unfriendly spirits 
of darkness. But it seemed as if her powers 
were now exhausted ; she sank down in the high- 
backed chair, and long remained sitting with 
bowed head, her hands before her face, and her 
elbows resting on the , writing-table. Suddenly 
she rose with a hasty, lightning-quick movement, 
as though she had heard a sound which fright- 


130 


PILLONE. 


ened her ; she stared a moment toward the door, 
blew out the lantern, and hid it in the chimney ; 
then she stepped before the great pier-glass with 
a quick movement, flung the capuchin back from 
her head, tore the mantle from her shoulders, 
and in the brilliant light, which was doubled by 
the old Venetian mirror, stood the fair Filomela, 
the mysterious beauty of the wedding on the 
rocks near Posilippo. 

I was hardly willing to trust my eyes, and yet 
I could not possibly be mistaken. It was the 
same light, slender form, the same radiant golden 
hair, the same large, sparkling eyes, and the 
same expression, a wonderful mingling of youth- 
ful vivacity, pride, and melancholy. How beau- 
tiful she was, as she stood there before the 
mirror, which gave back to her her whole capti-^ 
vating splendor ! How dazzling were those white, 
round shoulders, encircled by the fine Sorrentine 
lace that cradled itself like white flowers on her 
back and bosom ! How beautiful and soft in 
their movements were those full arms, and the 
delicate fingers with which she arranged her 
braids, which the veil and the hurried walk had 
disordered ! She seemeci to know it herself, for 
as she entwined a dark red camellia more securely 
among these golden locks, she nodded to herself 


PILLONE. 


I3I 

in the glass, smiled, and then suddenly hid her 
face in both hands, and burst into convulsive 
sobs. When she again took away her hands, it 
seemed as. if this outbreak of sudden anguish 
had made her yet fairer ; she was pale, her lips 
quivered, and her bosom heaved violently ; but 
her eyes flashed with a strange, almost feverish 
brilliancy, and her lips wore again that expres- 
sion, half-sad, half-proud, that lent her the grace 
of a queen. She fastened once more the great 
brilliant, which like a star in the night sparkled 
upon her black silk dress, looked once more in 
the glass, and then hastened to the old bureau, 
whose mother-of-pearl ornaments glanced in the 
bright light. Then she drew forth a bunch of 
keys, tried several in the keyholes, and seemed 
impatient that none of them would open the 
secret drawers. Suddenly it seemed as if a new 
thought flashed through her head ; she examined 
one by one the gilded knobs which were attached 
to the sides of the drawers, pressed upon them, 
and suddenly with a rattling sound the middle 
portion of the bureau fell down, and disclosed a 
series of secret compartments, which were filled 
with letters and documents. She took them out 
packet by packet, ran through them with nervous 
haste, constantly glancing toward the door, and 


132 


PILLONE. 


at length paused at a letter which seemed to 
excite her especial attention. Next she arranged 
all the packets in a bundle, bound them carefully 
together, and hid them with the lantern in the 
chimney. When she had finished this strange 
work, she closed the bureau, crossed the cham- 
ber a couple of times with uneasy steps, and 
flung herself again into the old arm-chair, where 
she once more remained, sunk in deep thought, 
and motionless. So long did she sit there, and 
so little movement could I see in her, that I 
almost believed she had fallen asleep. Then she 
rose with a deep sigh, bent over the writing- 
table, and drew from her bosom a small gold 
Ibcket, which she slowly opened. It seemed to 
contain a likeness, for she gazed at it long and 
fixedly, while her eyes flashed with a strange 
fire. She kissed it passionately, and hid it 
again in her bosom. Then she sat down, placed 
her hands before her face, and it seemed to me 
that she wept. At the same moment, I heard, 
deep under me, a hollow groaning sound, as 
though a door were pushed to with force. 
Shortly there sounded firm, strong steps in the 
lower story, and now Filomela rose with an 
expression of strained attention, as though she 
looked to see some spectre of the night. The 


PILLONE. 


133 


steps came nearer, they sounded already on the 
stairs, and she made a movement as if she would 
take refuge in the dark alcove where I sat ; but 
suddenly she made a couple of steps toward the 
door, wiped away the last traces of tears with 
her handkerchief, and again there passed over 
her face that wonderfully proud, almost imperi- 
ous expression which had struck me the very 
first time that I saw her. 

She leaned upon the writing-table and looked 
toward the door. It opened slowly and a man 
in a dark, voluminous mantle came in. With a 
quick movement he took the mantle from his 
shoulders, flung it upon a. chair, and before me 
stood a form which, in spite of its disguise, I 
recognized at once, — it was Pillone. He wore 
the glazed hat of the bersaglieri with the long 
waving cock’s plume, his dark-blue jacket was 
adorned with gold lace, and in his bright red 
sash flashed his dagger and his pistols; but in 
this half nautical, half military costume he seemed 
to me to look doubly noble : it appeared to be 
made for him and to unite the smuggler and the 
brigand in one. He stood still for a moment 
and gazed at her, mute and entranced, as if over- 
powered by her beauty, then he made a couple 
of hasty steps toward her and was about to em- 


134 


PILLONE. 


brace her, but she drew back almost shyly, and 
he said with an impetuous expression, Filo- 
mela, why have you no greeting for me ? Let 
all our wrangling and strife be forgotten. You 
know not what I this night venture for your 
sake.’^ 

Pillone,” she replied with hollow voice, '' how 
could you have the heart to leave me so long in 
this frightful place ? I had appointed you in my 
letter a rendezvous two hours after midnight, 
and for more than an hour have I now waited 
here in anxiety and suspense.” 

‘‘ Have you not awaited me on other nights 
than this ” he asked, regarding her keenly. , 
‘^Have you not during these lasf weeks been 
here many nights without informing me Deny 
it not, my spies know all.” 

She seemed to be taken by surprise, yet an- 
swered quickly, Do you make it a reproach to 
me that I have dared everything, made light of 
everything, solely out of love for you ? Yes, 
many a night have I stolen into this desolate, 
forsaken villa, which j/ou taught me to know, 
and which still fills me with fear and shudder- 
ing. Many a night I have waited here till I 
heard the first cock crow, only in the hope of 
meeting you on this spot, which you, as I know. 


PILLONE. 


135 


at times frequent. Alas, I knew not your ways, 
and knew not whither I should send my message, 
else you had received it long since.'' 

How learned you, then, where I was ? " he 
asked searchingly. 

From old Rafaello, down there on the strand," 
replied she hastily ; he has before brought you 
letters and messages, and promised to do my 
errand." 

‘‘Then was he ill-requited," he said darkly. 
“ He was no more to be trusted since he gave up 
Matteo. One of my outposts, who knew him 
and believed him to be a spy, sent a bullet into 
his body as he came too near our lines. Your 
letter was found upon him and brought to me ; 
but it was too late, and I could scarcely read it 
for blood." 

The young maiden uttered a cry and covered 
her face with her hands. “Blood!" cried she, 
“blood ! ever comes blood between us. For my 
sake ! Do you remember the poor Leone in the 
prison-yard of San Elmo ? He was the first, and 
you were then still a child. Rafaello murdered ! 
the poor old man! My God, may he be the 
last ! " 

“Not murdered, but put to death ! " answered 
Pilldne with hard voice. “ What did the old fool 


136 


PILLONE. 


want about our outposts, if he did not know the 
password ? Knew he not the laws that have 
ruled among us from the oldest times ? Did he 
not know that he had betrayed one of the best 
of my people, and that he who betrays Pillone 
suffers death ? 

‘‘ He had hoped for pardon for my sake, if he 
had brought you my letter,’' replied Filomela in 
low tones. ‘‘That surely you might have vouch- 
safed him.” 

Pillone was silent a moment ; then he said : 
“No, that I should* not, even if you had stood by 
his side. I must maintain discipline among my 
people, if I wish to remain their master, and for 
the traitor we know only one punishment — 
death.” 

“You love me not, Pillone! You have never 
loved me I ” cried the young maiden with a flash- 
ing glance, “else you would have spared an*'* 
infirm and aged man, who perhaps was driven 
to his offense by want.” 

“He fell in consequence of his own deeds, but 
I did not give the order,” said Pillone, more 
mildly; “you know not, Filomela, what it means 
to uphold one’s authority among these wild, hard 
men, whose life is only the stake in a game of 
hazard. You say that I do not love you I 'Have 


PILLONE. 


137 


you not the best proof in the confidence that I 
once more show you? Do you not know that 
all is prepared to capture me, and annihilate my 
people ? I have risked myself in the jaws of the 
lion, and as I ventured hither to-night to meet 
you, I passed by the watch-fires of the bersaglieri, 
that burned upon the market-place of Sorrento. 
They saluted me, but had one of the police 
agents recognized me, in my disguise, they would 
have shot me on the spot like a dog. I love you 
not, say you ! Have I not, then, bestowed on 
you everything you could ask, fulfilled every 
wish, and often risked my life for your sake ? I 
love you not ! Have you then forgotten the 
wedding night on the promontory at Posilippo ? 
Who was it gave the rascally beggar, the police 
agent, the signal of my presence? You betrayed 
me, Filomela, and incurred the same penalty 
which fell upon the poor Rafaello. You alienated 
my people from me, because I undertook nothing 
against you. You allowed yourself to be taken 
prisoner and carried before the police at Naples, 
and now when I come hither with trust and con- 
fidence in you, when a sign from you wodld 
betray me irretrievably, now you say that I no 
longer love you ! 

^ '‘Make me no reproaches, Pillone, so long as 
18 


138 


PILLONE. 


the real wrong is on your side. Have you for- 
gotten what shortly before that evening passed 
between us ? Do you remember that you forced 
me to array myself, and take part in a wedding 
feast that was repulsive to my inmost soul ? I 
could have drowned myself, had not the thought 
of vengeance restrained me. But when you 
danced the tarantella with Giovannina, when 
you seized the guitar, and in glowing verses 
improvised her nuptial hymn, you wounded me 
as you little suspect. I was at that moment, 
among those men, no longer your betrothed, but 
your mistress, whom you treated according to 
your humor. You saw me turn pale, saw me 
weep, saw that Pillone's bride hid herself in a 
corner ; but no sympathy stirred your heart. I 
was to empty the poisoned cup of scorn to the 
very dregs, and the coral necklace which you 
gave me as the first token of our union, this 
blood-red bond between us, you yourself rent 
asunder, and wound it about her neck. At that 
moment I could have murdered you ; but a 
woman may not, like your people, carry knife 
ai?d pistol. I seized the weapon nearest at hand, 
and since I, as well as you, knew what was the 
real trade of this beggar, in a fit of rage and 
despair, I betrayed you. I was mad with jealousy 


PILLONE. 


139 


and hate, for I knew at that time more than you 
at this moment suspect.” 

‘‘What then did you know.?” asked Pillone, 
with a slight uneasiness in his tone. “ I grant 
you, that on that evening, in a fit of wantonness, 

I did you a wrong, but had you loved me, you 
would not have revenged yourself as you did. 
How many brave men did I lose on that even- 
ing!” 

“.Men!” cried Filomela contemptuously, and 
clenched- her fingers spasmodically. “Always 
your talk is of men, as if women were nothing 
to you. ‘ In a fit of wantonness ' say you ? Oh, 
call it not so ! In a fit of passion you trampled 
upon her whom you yourself called your bride. 
You say your spies know everything. Believe 
me, I too have had my spies, when it served my 
hate and my pride. They have informed me of 
everything. I know all your life. Of your re- 
lation to the Giovannina, in whose wedding- 
feast you compelled me to take part, and of your 
nightly visits to her mother’s cottage, when she 
tended her goats at Capri, I am perfectly in- 
formed, as well as that when weary of her, you 
forsook her and bestowed her on one of your - 
people. Now do you comprehend what I suf- 
fered on that evening when you sang the nuptial 
song in her honor .? ” 


140 


PILLONE. 


Pillone stood as if struck by lightning. He 
cast his eyes to the ground, his lips quivered, 
but he said not a word. 

Think not that I allowed myself to be car- 
ried away by idle rumors, or listened to the talk 
of the market-place,” continued Filomela in low 
tones. ‘‘ I allowed myself to be captured and 
taken before the police at Naples. I was in 
truth compelled to submit to superior force, but 
this very police, whom you so despise, placed the 
proofs in my hands. In the search of the smug- 
glers’ dens there were found in Giovannina’s 
bridal chamber ornaments which you yourself 
had worn, Pillone, aye, which you had spoken 
of giving to me. I was obliged, with the blush 
of shame on my cheek, to testify, together with 
Giovannina, that they were yours, that I had seen 
them in your possession.^ Oh, those were fright- 
ful days ! ” 

And in those days,” cried Pillone in a voice 
that trembled with emotion, ‘'you did more than 
that. You imparted to the police matters known 
only to you and me. Many of my best hiding- 
places were ferreted out, many of my best people 
surprised and destroyed. I felt your invisible 
hand lying heavily upon me, whithersoever I 
turned, and yet I can forgive you all if you will 
only give me your love henceforth.” 


PILLONE. 


I4I 


I could have betrayed you utterly if I had 
wished/' replied Filomela proudly, and there 
were moments when I felt myself tempted to do 
it ; but they offered me gold as a reward, and 
my pride was mortally hurt. That saved you, 
Pillone. I could not forgive you what you had 
done to me, to me of whom you said that from 
a child you had chosen me for your bride, and in 
dreams had seen me standing by your side as a 
queen." 

‘^Then forgive me now," said Pillone, as in 
violent excitement he knelt down and kissed the 
hem of her garment. ‘'You were right to hate 
and despise me. I myself in your place should 
have done, perhaps, far worse than you did. For- 
give me, Filomela! You know not the sea of 
passion that sometimes raises its waves in the 
breast of a man and dashes him like a wreck on 
far worse than the rocks of Capri. I do not 
deny my relation to Giovannina, but it was a 
passing intoxication of the senses, aggravated by 
the coldness which you then showed to my 
tenderest feelings. It was in an access of despair 
at your reserve, that I approached Giovannina. 
But never has she been the chosen of my heart, 
her image has not, radiant like yours, hovered 
before me from childhood, never have I in dreams 


142 


PILLONE. 


seen her a queen by my side. You, only you, 
shall wear the crown, in life as in dreams. Say 
only these words, say ‘I love you,’ and I will 
raise you so high that the reality shall surpass 
even your boldest aspirations.” 

He had risen, and laid his arm about her 
slender waist. Now, he drew her down to him, 
set her like a child upon his knee, embraced her 
with both arms, and uttered soft, whispered 
words, the tenderest speech of love, in tones too 
subdued to reach my ear. She leane^l her head 
upon his shoulder, her rich locks were loosened 
and fell in a golden stream over his breast ; he 
covered her with kisses, eager, passionate, and 
she returned them feebly, her arms about his 
neck, but once, as she raised her head from 
his shoulder, I saw in her face an expression that 
almost terrified me. 

Thus for a while they sat, absorbed in their 
whispered talk, interrupted only by his caresses, 
which grew in fervor and vehement passionate- 
ness. At length he rose like one dazed, placed 
her softly on a chair by his side, and said, re- 
garding her with glowing looks, ‘‘Hear me, 
Filomela, this is not yet all! I will give thee 
yet more, and raise thee yet higher, in thanks 
for the love which has forgiven my sins. Thou 


PILLONE. 


143 


knowest not my most secret plans : I have kept 
them secretly till this hour, within my breast; 
I have brooded over them as a madman over his 
dreams ; but now thou shalt know all, and shalt 
share all with me. Thou hast seen in me the 
brigand, the hardened robber, who could, like 
the eagle, shoot down with the speed of lightning 
on his prey and vanish with it again. But know 
that all this was but a mask, under which I gath- 
ered forces, formed connections, and made me a 
name, which now is a well-known sound from 
the Volscian Hills to the rocks of Maffa. My 
goal is a higher one. From the smuggler I have 
raised myself to the. brigand.* To-morrow, the 
brigand transforms himself into a warrior, who 
will have more than a thousand well-armed men 
for his following. To-morrow, when the sun 
rises, the flame of insurrection will blaze from 
Sorrento to Castellamare, to the very heart of 
Naples. The Masaniello of the nineteenth cen- 
tury has risen. He will break the cross of Savoy 
as the other did the towers of Castile, and, by the 
holy body of Christ, he will not let the crowu be 
wrested from his hands, either by mob or by 
aristocrat ! '' 

He stood before her, proud and commanding, 
with raised hand and flashing eyes ; she raised 


144 


PILLONE. 


her eyes to him and gazed at him fixedly, but it 
was a look and an expression wherein lay half 
scorn, half pity. He did not heed it, and she 
lowered her head again with th^ words : “ Times 
change, Pillone ! No Masaniello is born more 
upon the shores of Naples.’’ 

‘‘And why not he cried out with vehemence. 
“You ever know how to throw water on the 
fire that glows in my heart, and to change my 
proudest plans into dreams. You do not know 
this land and this people as I do, who from a 
child have lived in their midst. Hear my plan 
and judge then yourself whether it must pass 
for madness. This land is ruled by a king, it is 
said, and they say that Italy is one from Turin 
to the farthest promontory of Sicily. But all, 
and this great robber of Savoy best of all, know 
that this is a lie, contrived to hide his weakness. 
Victor Emmanuel’s power extends no farther 
than a couple of miles this side of Florence. 
There stands the holy see, and he will hardly 
venture to raise his hand against that so long 
as French bayonets protect the Vatican. Here 
in the south, he is king only in name, and it 
would fare ill with him should he attempt to be 
more. Down here there is but one power that 
rules, but one which the people obeys, about 


PILLONE. 


US 


whose standard it rallies, that is the Holy Church. 
All will rise like one man against the Piedmontese 
tyrant, when the time is ripe, and all to a man 
shall I have upon my side ; there will not be a 
church or a convent where I cannot find refuge 
and succor. Aye, even from Rome, I have had 
assurances that my struggle shall not be in vain, 
and that an insurrection will be supported, not 
only with volunteers, but with arms and money. 
•Then the noble of southern Italy ! Where is he.^ 
He lives segluded on his estates, discontented 
that his power is broken, his privileges infringed, 
his rights made a mockery. In him, too, I shall 
find an ally, and when the time is come, there 
will not be a peasant or a horse on his estates, 
that will not be at my command. Finally, there 
is the people itself here, the great, toiling masses, 
and nowhere presses the Piedmontese yoke more 
heavily than just here. Call to mind ho\v they 
lived here in old days : no paltry vexations of 
police, but distribution of corn and gold, church 
feasts, fireworks and gorgeous processions — 
those were the means by which these grown-up 
children were governed and held in check. What 
does such a people care for political freedom, if 
the largess is withdrawn from them, if work is 
scarce and children cry for bread ? Look around 
19 


146 


PILLONE. 


you ! Everywhere you hear complaints of vio- 
lence and injustice, everywhere sounds a low 
murmur of anger and discontent, everywhere 
the old happy times are wished back. The Pied- 
montese have learned nothing from history. 
They have raised the duties on salt, and on 
tobacco ; they have introduced taxes on every 
object of use from the theatre-ticket to the wax 
candles which are to light us to our graves ; they 
have introduced the meal-tax, making dearer 
every bit of bread which the poor man puts in 
his mouth ; and they have forgotten that raising 
the customs duty a centime the pound on fruit 
was the occasion of Masaniello’s proclaiming 
himself king in Naples. A dull hate ferments 
everywhere. In Salerno, the collectors of the 
meal-tax have been flung under the mill-wheels, 
and in Castellamare, yesterday, the royal arms 
were torn down from the shops of the salt and 
tobacco dealers, and burned upon the beach. 
To-morrow, the aged Luigi Bellini, the oldest of 
the fishermen in Santa Lucia, will be distrained 
for arrears of taxes, his boat and his fishing gear 
sold, and his position transferred to Bernardo 
Capello, who stands in the secret pay of the 
police. The whole population is in uproar, 
every fisherman and every smuggler, as far as 


PILLONE. 


147 


the gulf extends, will to-morrow be on hand 
before his house, and when the tax-collectors 
come, it will need but a spark to kindle this 
inflammable mass into a blaze. I hold this spark. 
I carry it here upon my tongue, and woe to him 
who dares to set himself in opposition, when 
Pillone to-morrow speaks to the people ! '' 

Filomela answered nothing. She gazed un- 
easily toward the window, and said at length in 
a sympathizing tone, Beware, Pillone ! ^ I fear 
there are others more cunning and more power- 
ful than you, and who use you as their tool. But 
what tool can set itself up against its master.^ 
It will be broken in pieces when it is no longer 
needed.” 

‘‘ Oh, how ill you know me,” said Pillone, with 
rising vehemence. When was I a pitiful tool 
in others’ hands ? Everything have I done my- 
self. Every plan, every calculation, down to the 
smallest details, T have weighed and thought out 
myself. I have myself prepared everything, 
even to the plans of fortifications, which you see 
hanging before you yonder. There is not a 
pointy of -importance which I have not examined 
thoroughly, and whose weakest side I do not 
know ; but I bear my work alone upon my own 
shoulders, and no man, be he ever so cunning 


148 


PILLONE. 


and powerful, shall be in a position to hinder my 
cause/' 

So much the more I fear for you," said Filo- 
mela reflectively ; one man can do nothing in 
our times." 

‘‘You are right," answered Pillone, with an 
impatient gesture. “ He is powerless, if he can- 
not set the masses in motion ; but if he can do 
that, he can do everything. What was Masani- 
ello.^ A poor fisherman, who can hardly have 
thought of shaking off the yoke before the day 
on which his harangue, like a flash from a 
thunder-cloud, smote among the people. What 
was the brave Murat, on the evening before he 
stormed the impregnable Capri ? A foolhardy 
hot-head, who sought to drag the moon from the 
sky. What was Garibaldi, when with his three 
hundred he landed in Sicily ? A crack-brained 
adventurer, who was laughed at by Europe, and 
yet three Wfeeks later he ruled over the same 
Naples that now is to pass for impregnable. 
Have you forgotten what lately took place in 
Palermo ? Two thousand young men, who had 
fled into the hills to escape the Piedmontese 
conscription, conspired, under the brave Ma- 
saglio, and took the capital of Sicily without the 
firing of a shot. No, Filomela, I love you indeed 


PILLONE. 


149 


ardently, but you shall not dampen my courage. 
Fortune follows the brave ; and if you dare not 
accompany him, then he goes alone, and let the 
faint-hearted remain behind 

‘‘I am not faint-hearted, Pillone,'' answered 
the young maiden, and the red shot into her 
cheeks ; ‘'but your undertaking is foolhardy, aye, 
all but mad. Granting the success of all your 
plans, you will still be crushed, and have to 
retreat to your hills. Do you remember the 
result in Palermo ? Italian frigates bombarded 
the city, and Piedmontese soldiers stormed it 
house by house, shot down the deserters, and 
flung their corpses unburied into the cellars. 
So will it fare with your followers too, Pillone. 
You will easily excite the people to an outbreak, 
aye, perhaps even be able to possess yourself 
of San Elmo, but you will never be able to 
maintain your position permanently. The troops 
of the Piedmontese will, after a few days, swarm 
about the city like flies ; and even if you should 
defeat them, even if you should make your way 
with the crown upon your head into the Palazzo 
Reale, in order to seat yourself upon the purple 
to which you aspire, think you it would be en- 
dured in Europe that the son of a goat-herd 
should sway the sceptre over the kingdom of 
Naples 


PILLONE. 


ISO 

The son of a swine-herd once seized the sacred 
keys of St. Peter, and hurled his thunderbolts 
of excommunication against kings and princes,’' 
replied Pillone proudly. ‘‘When I have flung 
off the mantle of the robber, as he once threw 
away his crook, I may well reach a kingly 
throne." 

“Your pride and high spirit so blind you, Pil- 
lone," replied Filomela, shaking her head, “that 
I shall hardly prevail upon you to follow my 
advice. Listen, however, calmly -to my plan, as 
I have heard yours, and you will do well also to 
follow it." 

Pillone made an impatient movement af his 
head, bpt still took a place at her side. She gave 
him her hand, bent down to him, and said, “ I 
know, Pillone, that you have laid up in this villa 
all that for years you have taken from the rich 
foreigners who rove through our land ; you your- 
self have told me and often showed me what you 
possessed in gold, jewels, and diamonds. The 
whole may be taken away with us in a boat, and 
I have made my arrangements for the purpose. 
Let us fly together, Pillone, before the storm 
that you wish to unchain breaks loose. Let us 
land on some unguarded spot near Gaeta, thence 
we can soon be over the border of the States of 


fiLLONE. 


I5I 


the Church, where we are safe from all pursuers. 
There you are rich and independent ; there no 
one inquires into your former life. Let the 
church give you absolution for the blood you 
have shed, and earn for yourself the mercy of 
.the Holy Virgin by stifling the wild ambition 
that now seethes in your breast. Then when 
you have come to be at peace with yourself, 
purchase a quiet vineyard property, improve it, 
and then'' — Filomela did not finish the sen- 
tence, but wound her arms about his neck. 

Pillone loosened her hands with an impetuous 
movement, stared at her, and said, That, then, 
was the dream and its queen ! Think you a 
man such as I am can become a quiet peasant, 
trimming his vines and sighing for rain ? What 
a miserable, pitiful life ! and for this you have 
planned ! " 

Hear me through to the end," replied Filo- 
mela with a deprecating smile. ‘‘ I did what I 
did only to assure safety and to protect you from 
the threatening future. When I was in Procida, 
yesterday, I spoke with the old Domenico Sta- 
telli, whom T know to be devoted to you. He 
promised, with his sons, to cross over to-night 
close" before Sorrento, so as about three o’clock 
to be in the neighborhood of the villa. He will 


152 


PILLONE. 


carry an olive torch at his stern, as if he were 
on a fishing trip, and if you give him your signal, 
he will lie-to here under the rock. The time has 
come ; he cannot be far off. Follow my counsel, 
therefore, gather up your treasures quickly, and 
let us fly with each other to a place where mis- 
fortune does not impend daily over our heads.’’ 

‘‘ Officious meddler ! ” cried Pillone, and sprang 
up with a vehemence that threw his chair to the 
floor. How dare you venture upon such things ? 
Know you not, then, that, since I last saw you, 
Domenico Statelli is become my deadly foe ? 
And in his hands you have placed yourself t 
Unhappy woman ! You are in danger of having 
betrayed me against your will. Wait here till I 
return.” 

With a bound, Pillone was at the door, and I 
heard him hasten up the stairs to the tower- 
chamber, whose door he hurriedly opened. Filo- 
mela rose quickly ; she glided to the door, listened, 
and then turned toward the window with a smile 
of so fiendish malignity as made me shudder. 
She listened once more attentively; then she 
grasped her white handkerchief, snatched the 
blind from the window, and let the handkerchief 
flutter in the night-wind. I heard the shrill cry 
of an owl from the vineyards above; she care- 


PILLONE. 


153 


fully closed the blind again, and in the next 
moment was sitting at her place by the writing- 
table, with an expression upon her features 
which again reminded me of the petrifying head 
of the Gorgon. • 

A few seconds later, Pillone came back. He 
sat down beside her, and with a calm voice, said : 
“Filomela, you might, without meaning it, have 
placed me in a peril which you yourself did not 
know ; but a good star guides my enterprise, and 
it has saved me to-night. The wind blows land- 
ward, the sea runs high, and in this surf no 
boat could lie-to, off the shore. All without 
was dark and still, not a light was to be seen 
on all the gulf. Let us take this as a sign 
that my proud dreams are to be fulfilled. But 
bethink you, Filomela, that you are the queen of 
my dreams. At your side I can accomplish 
anything, without you I am nothing. Come, 
therefore, and follow me at once. The secret 
outlet stands open to us, and along the coast we 
can reach my retreat in an hour. Old Gasparo 
and his wife will receive you as their own child, 
and to-morrow you shall follow me in a boat to 
Naples. Be true to me, Filomela, and accom- 
pany me as my guardian angel. It shall not be 


20 


154 


PILLONE. 


three days before you hear the triumphant cry of 
the people, ‘ Long live Pillone and his bride ! ' ” 

She gazed at him with the same cold, stony 
look, and said curtly, ‘'No, Pillone, to the scaffold 
I do not accompany you/' 

“That I do not ask,” he cried out; “accom- 
pany me only on my upward flight to fame and 
fortune ! ” 

“Filomela cannot fly so high,” she replied. 

“Then I will bear you on my shoulders, like 
the eagle who bore the sparrow toward the sun, 
till it soared yet higher than he himself,” cried 
he, passionately. “ I have no faith in a fortune 
which you do not share.” 

“I follow you not ! ” she said decidedly. 

“'And why not ? ” asked he, turning pale. “ Do 
you know that I can compel you?” 

“ Do I know that ? ” replied she, in cutting 
tones. “ Have you not compelled me to every- 
thing, since that first unhappy night, since the 
death of him whom you have forbidden me to 
name? Yes, certainly you can force me, as you 
have forced me to flight, to crime, to caresses. 
But can you compel fortune, Pillone, because you 
compel me ? ” 

“ I will crush everything that places itself in 
my path, were it even the archangel, St. Michael 


PILLONE. 


ISS 


himself/' cried Pillone bitterly. Answer me 
truly ! Is it because I took vengeance on that 
wretched libertine that you wish to leave me ? 
Is it because I killed Alessandro Cesarini, that 
you turn your back upon me on the night before 
my triumph y 

‘‘You have forbidden me to name his name," 
said the young maiden, with quivering voice; 
“ even memory, the dearest treasure of the human 
soul, you have sought to crush. But you have 
not succeeded. His image dwells as bright and 
clear in my heart, as on the Hrst day on which 
he pressed my hand. Yes, if you wish to know 
it, Pillone, it is Cesarini’s blood that has parted 
our ways, and will part them forever." 

“And this wretch, this debauched roue, who 
robbed you of your innocence, and me of what 
was dearest to me, shall his shade, then, forever 
stand between us ? " cried Pillone, pale as death. 
“The wretch! Let him rot in the marble sar- 
cophagus behind the altar of San Carlo. Oh ! if I 
could, I would kill him yej: again, should he rise 
from the dead. I would throttle this pale ghost, 
if I met it — this shade that even in the grave 
robs me of what I hold dearest in life I " 

“ Revile not the dead ! " said Filomela threat- 
eningly. “ God’s judgment may overtake you, ere 


156 


PILLONE. 


you suspect. But one thing shall you know, one 
thing I have to say to you this night, that shall 
fill you with shuddering : I have never loved you, 
Pillone! You have threatened me, have wrung 
and extorted from me every caress, from the 
lightest pressure of the hand to the kiss on my 
lips. Alessandro Cesarini, your words wrong as 
foully as did your murderous blow. He could 
inspire love, while you have known only how to 
rule and constrain. You have dragged me from 
ravine to ravine, from den to den ; you have rent 
asunder every chord that woke an echo in my 
breast, till you have made me as hard, as cold and 
unfeeling, as' the rock itself. When you killed 
Alessandro Cesarini, you killed with the same 
dagger every sensibility within me. I despise 
and abhor you as vehemently as I love his image 
that I carry here upon my breast.’' 

Pillone was no longer pale ; he had become 
ashy-grey. His eyes shot lightnings, his knees 
trembled ; it was as if these words struck him 
blow upon blow, like so many invisible daggers. 
Suddenly he sprang upon Filomela, forced her 
backward, and drew forth the medallion which 
she carried hidden on her breast. He opened it 
and gazed at it with eyes that flashed with rage* 
and hate; then he raised it in his hand and 


PILLONE. 


157 


hurled it against the mantel-piece, so that the 
glass was shivered into a thousand fragments. 

Pillone! ” cried the young maiden, and darted 
forward to save the dear picture. ' 

‘‘ Back ! Not a step ! Will you drive me 
utterly m3.d?'' thundered Pillone, and stamped 
upon the floor till the old bookcases tottered. 

Then was heard a peculiar vibrating sound, 
as of a yielding spring. The middle division of 
the old bureau sank rattling down, and revealed 
an array of empty compartments. At the same 
moment there sounded up yonder on the heights 
a low trumpet-signal. 

Betrayed groaned Pillone, while his gaze 
was riveted upon the empty, gaping pigeon- 
holes. ‘'Oh, fool that I have been, to trust a 
woman ! ” 

“Yes,’' said Filomela, with trembling voice; 
“ a woman whose beloved you murdered, whose 
love you forced and whom you yourself betrayed, 
because she did not return your wild and brutal 
passion. Aye, glare upon me ! Snatch at your 
weapons ! What is life to me, when you have 
laid waste all about me ? Aye, you are betrayed, 
Pillone ! At this moment sounds the signal for 
the advance of the bersaglieri, and within two 
hours they will have invested every pass that 


158 


PILLONE. 


leads to your camp. Quick, then, Pillone ! Hasten 
to their help ! The people awaits its king ! ” 
Pillone had grasped his revolver, and made a 
threatening movement toward her ; but, as if he 
feared that a shot at this moment might increase 
the danger of his position, he lowered it again, 
and said with forced coldness, I understamd 
you, Filomela. The ten thousand ducats which 
this head is worth at any moment, you have 
wished to take also with the rest. They might, 
indeed, serve to adorn the peaceful villa. Oh, 
how contemptible ! How utterly have I been 
deceived in you ! ** 

‘‘Insult me to your fill, Pillone,'' answered 
Filomela; “maltreat me with your tongue, as 
heretofore you have done with your hand ! What 
is it to me in an hour like this ? You are be- 
trayed ! In a moment the gendarmes will sur- 
round this house, and no escape will remain open 
to you. They will lay you in chains, will throw 
you into prison, condemn you to death ; then, 
when the dumlp muzzles of the platoon point at 
your heart, and you see death flashing from 
every muzzle, then think of Filomela, the chosen 
queen of your heart ! She it was who betrayed 
you ; but he who guided her steps and prompted * 
each of her strokes was Alessandro Cesarini, 
whose memory she has never forgotten." 


PILLONE. 


159 

The young maiden turned about, tore the 
Venetian blind wide open, and uttered a shrill 
call while she waved a handkerchief. With the 
wild, inarticulate cry of a tiger Pillone sprang 
upon her, seized her in his arms, thrust the 
handkerchief into her mouth, and flung her like 
a child over his shoulder. I heard the door torn 
open, and again, crash to. I heard him plunge 
down the stone flags of the marble stairway, 
heard how with his burden he staggered forward 
in the darkness, stumbling, now'here, now there. 
Suddenly there came a long, piercing cry. I 
heard a body fall heavily to the earth, then the 
rattling of the holy image, which was violently 
shut, and all was still as the grave. 

Paralyzed with horror, I sank back upon the 
sofa, and for the first moment could not collect 
my thoughts. There was a rushing and a ring- 
ing in my ears. I seemed to hear far-off voices 
and calls that came deep down from a bottomless 
abyss. I thought I perceived the smell of smoke, 
and in violent excitement I leaped up, and, with 
a spring, was at the door, — it was shut, firm- 
ly fastened. Without a moment’s hesitation I 
hastened to the window, and, using the sturdy 
old ivy stems as a rope-ladder, stood below in 
the garden at the same moment that I heard 


i6o 


PILLONE. 


from the vineyards above the first steps of the 
advancing gendarmes. 

I fled into the dark orange-grove, from which 
a narrow path led to the adjoining garden, and 
by a roundabout way returned to La Cocumella. 
Here all was in the greatest excitement. Patrol 
followed patrol ; people ran, half-dressed, hither 
and thither, and the old porter was hardly able 
to recognize me for fright when I addressed him. 
I reached my room in an indescribable condition 
of mind ; the air threatened to stifle me, and 
my first movement was to the balcony, whose 
folding-doors I threw open. What a spectacle ! 
The vineyards swarmed with bersaglieri and 
gendarmes, who took their headlong course over 
hedges and fences. My eyes sought the old, 
deserted villa, whose horrors I shall never forget. 
It still stood as before, with its gloomily-barred 
windows, its steep roof, and its chimneys so 
strangely built over; but from these rolled a 
heavy, pitch-black smoke, ruddy sparks leaped 
forth, now here, now there, and danced like 
flickering will-o'-the-wisps over the roof, while 
an undefined, ever-increasing light pressed 
out from behind the bolted window -shutters. 
Suddenly came a crash, the forward half of the 
roof fell thundering in, and up toward the dark 


PILLONE. 


l6l 


night-sky darted red, crackling flames, that flung 
their reflection on the dark cypresses, on the 
pines, and on the white marble figures about the 
fountains. Shortly after the flames burst forth 
from the lower story also, shone with their red 
tongues like points of fire through the dark-green 
foliage, and soon the villa was one vast blazing 
heap of cinders, where all help was manifestly 
impossible. Gendarmes and bersaglieri stood in 
silent groups, as idle spectators, far below in the 
garden of the villa. The heavy fire-engines came 
rattling from Sorrento in vain ; the fire devoured 
farther and farther, enveloped the old square 
tower, and toward morning La Villa Morta an- 
swered completely to its name, a desolate, horror- 
inspiring heap of ruins, from which the wind 
still drove landward the last wreathing clouds of 
smoke. 

At evening I met, on one of the narrow walled 
paths which, like mole-tracks, wind down to Sor- 
rento, a strange procession. Upon a silk-lined 
bier, whose gilded drapery glittered in the light 
of the wax tapers which surrounded it, lay the 
corpse of a young woman. The wan hands were 
folded over the breast ; rich, golden hair flowed 
about a face that was so well known to me, and 
that, even in death, had n*ot lost its wondrously 


21 


i 62 


PILLONE. 


proud, queenly expression. Praying priests, mur- 
muring monks, and choir-boys with crucifixes and 
censers, followed the bier. It was Filomela, Pil- 
lone’s bride. She had been found before the 
holy image, in the old stone gallery, Pillone's 
dagger yet in the bleeding heart. 

Silently I followed the mournful procession, 
which, as it went on its way, drew more and 
more spectators from the neighboring houses 
and vineyards. Through the hollow way it passed 
in the flickering light of the candles, amid the 
murmuring prayers of the monks, and the lamen- 
tations and curses of the ever-augmenting throng. 
Onward it passed over the old bridge, where the 
holy image shone bright with lights and flowers, 
across the market, through the surging mass of 
men, till it halted before the little church, from 
which were issuing the tones of the organ. Only 
I understood this drama and its solution ; but 
everywhere that I passed I heard among the 
throng execrations against Pillone, and enthusi- 
astic exclamations at the beauty and the terrible 
fate of the young maiden, intermingled with 
complaints that the gendarmes had, as usual, 
come too late to prevent the pitiful catastrophe. 

On the next day I left Sorrento. The friendly 
town had become repulsive to me, and the smok- 


PILLONE. 


163 


ing ruins, which yawned before me from my 
once favorite balcony, filled me with terror and 
shuddering. 

‘‘ And you never saw him again } 

Yes, once,’' replied Turminoff. ‘‘It was only 
a brief and passing encounter, but if it interests 
you, I will tell you about it.” 

“ Can you doubt it ? ” 

Turminoff filled my glass, lighted a new cigar, 
and continued. 


164 


PILLONE. 


PART IV. 

THAD, as I said, left Sorrento, and taken lodg- 
ings in Pompeii, where I thought to remain 
till the Christmas festivities should call me to 
Rome. From the papers I had seen that Pil- 
lone’s band had been scattered in every direction, 
that many of his people had been wounded, taken 
prisoners or shot, but of himself, a» usual, nothing 
was known. He seemed this time, as on former 
occasions, to have had the remarkable faculty of 
disappearing as completely without trace, as if 
the earth had swallowed him. As for the rising 
in Naples, the papers also announced that at the 
sale at Luigi Bellini’s considerable excesses had 
taken place, but that the- troops had soon dis- 
persed the mob, who apparently wanted a leader. 
From Salerno and Amalfi at the same time came 
reports of slight tumults with like results ; but 
gradually quiet returned again, and in December 
no one any longer thought of Pillone. 

One of the last days that I spent in Pompeii, 
I had -decided to devote to an ascent of Vesuvius. 
The winter already began to set in, that is, the 


PILLONE. 


165 


Neapolitan winter, whose whole severity consists 
in the fact that the storms from the hills become 
somewhat more violent, and that scattered patches 
of snow glisten down from the cone of the crater, 
while the gardens and vineyards at its foot con- 
tinue to vaunt themselves in all the fresh colors 
of spring. In Pompeii I had secured a trust- 
worthy guide, and with an ample market-basket, 
which held provisions for us both, we began the 
ascent toward midnight, in order from the edge of 
the crater to enjoy the magnificent spectacle of 
the sunrise. It was a beautiful moonlight night, 
which made the climbing not very tedious, and 
in its coolness we hardly observed the difficulties 
which at other times are connected with the 
wading ankle-deep through the ashes of the 
cone. About an hour before sunrise I stoocU 
upon its summit, waiting impatiently for the sun 
with its arrowy beams to cleave the cold, grey 
morning mist, which had settled in fantastic 
strata about the summit of the mountain. 

Shortly after, the masses set themselves in 
motion. Like monstrous cloud-avalanches, they 
began slowly to roll downward, while a blood-red 
streak in the east announced the approaching 
break of day ; and the farther they sank and 
thereby took from me the view of the foot of the 


PILLONE. 


1 66 


mountain, so much the clearer became the view 
they opened to me down into this terrible cal- 
dron, filled with lava-slag and sulphur crystals, 
which now lay calm as a petrified sea of fire, 
from which, however, death and destruction had 
so often rolled down to the borders of Naples. 
My guide had left me a moment, and while I 
was gazing meditatively down into this hellish 
vase, whose only flowers were sulphur-yellow 
and cinnabar -red crystals, it seemed as if I 
heard down there, deep under the bluish sul- 
phur vapors which filled the bottom of the 
crater, a rattling sound, as if a couple of great 
stones rolled down into the depths. I gazed 
with straining eyes in the direction of the 
sound, and now I thought that, amid the rigid 
4ava-waves, I descried a grey block of stone, 
which, contrary to the order of nature, was mov- 
ing upward, still enveloped by the bluish vapors 
which, now here, now there, issued forth from 
the fissures of the crater. The rock continued 
to rise, the vapors about it by degrees grew thin- 
ner, and now I saw to my astonishment that it 
was a man, who, leaning upon a long staff, was 
slowly working his way upward out of the crater- 
bottom, and approaching the spot where I stood. 
It was a tall and meagre form; its feet were 


PILLONE. 


167 

wound about with a pair of strong goat-skin 
sandals, whose folds extended high up the calf, 
and held in place a pair of ragged hose, eaten 
into by the sulphuric acid and steam. Its hat 
was without a rim, and the brown mantle,- which 
fluttered about its shoulders, had numberless 
rents and tatters ; none the less did he advance 
with an assured, aye, almost haughty bearing, 
while over his left shoulder hung the long Italian 
rifle, which has at all times been the terror of 
travelers. He must from his secret hiding-place 
have noticed that I was for the moment without 
a guide, for he advanced directly toward me, 
lifted his old, almost shadowless hat, and said 
with a hoarse, asthmatic voice : Good morning, 
Eccellenza ! 

I stared at these pallid, sunken features ; at 
the red eyes, watering from the fumes of sulphur ; 
at the beard, matted, and here and there singed ; 
but this ashen-grey face, with the exhausted look 
and melancholy smile, I thought I had never 
seen, and, standing on my guard, I asked, ‘‘Who 
are you ? What do you wish ? 

Do you not know me ? '' he asked, and, throw- 
ing away his half-burned stick, he extended his 
hand. 

For a moment still I believed it was a robber 


PILLONE. 


1 68 


or a madman who had some evil design upon 
me, but suddenly there flashed through me a 
suspicion, and, astounded, I cried out, Pillone ! 
Isityou?’’ 

‘‘Yes, Eccellenza,” he answered, and gasped 
for breath. “The sulphur vapors down below 
there do not benefit one’s lungs, and I may well 
have altered since we last met.” 

“ That you have,” said I. 

He drew a deep sigh, and gazed down into the 
depths from which he had ’‘come. “ I saw you 
standing up here on the brink of the crater,” he 
went on, “and I knew you at once. climbed 
up, therefore, to ask a service of you.” 

He was silent, and drew a deep breath, as if 
it cost him pain to speak. I was filled with 
sympathy for this sickly, ragged form, whose 
whole appearance corresponded so little with the 
imposing carriage he had once maintained, and 
I answered, ^therefore, with friendliness, “ If I 
can do you a service to-day, it will be a pleasure 
to me.” 

“ I thank you for all that you have done for 
me, Eccellenza,” he continued, and looked, on the 
ground, “ for you have done me greater services 
than I had. a right to expect from a stranger ; 
but one thing I- have still to ask of you, and you 


PILLONE. 


169 


must not refuse me, for my whole happiness 
depends upon it. Give me back my holy image ; 
I ought never to have parted with it. Misfortune 
has followed my steps since the day on which it 
left my bosom.'' 

I had, for the sake of security, dways carried 
the little silver medallion about me. He received 
it with enthusiasm, kissed it, crossed himself, 
and hung it about his neck with the words, I 
was guilty, of an imprudence, Eccellenza, to part 
with this image. Had I kept it, much unhappi- 
ness might have been avoided." 

Do you think so I«.sked doubtingly. 

‘‘Yes," he replied; “I am convinced of it. 
Now good fortune returns." 

“ Do you still believe in good fortune, Pil- 
lone.^" I asked. “You have slain your own." 

“ Do not speak of it, Eccellenza," he said, and 
looked uneasily around. “ There is a form which 
follows me night and day, a voice which whis- 
pers to me, ‘ Thou shalt die ! ' I hear it plainly, 
even when I hide myself in the lowest depths 
where no living thing ventures to set foot. I 
see it by night rising out of the pale clouds, 
which issue like wreaths from the poisonous 
clefts of the crater. It is fearful ! It is ter- 
rible ! I have had no rest by day, no slumber 


22 


PILLONE. 


170 


by night. Ever it whispers, low and plaintively, 
‘ Thou shalt die, Pillone ! ’ And I have suffered 
pangs which you cannot conceive. I have raged 
like a madman, and I know not what has with- 
held me a hundred times from flinging myself 
headlong into the depths which seethe down be- 
low there. Ah, Eccellenza, you know not how 
awful a thing it is to be alone ! But now I am 
saved by you ; the image of my mother will 
bring me peace.’' 

How long, then, have you maintained your- 
self up here 

Since that unhappy night,” he replied gloom- 
ily. ^'Down yonder, where I live now, I am 
safe.” 

‘‘But how can you sustain life amid such 
surroundings.^” I asked, amazed. 

“Ah, Eccellenza,” he replied, “ that is the mis- 
fortune ! I live' more wretchedly than the wretch- 
edest worm that God has made. I am tortured 
with hunger, and often long for a drop of drink- 
able water ; for even the night-dew here is salt, 
and impregnated with sulphur. A couple of 
goat -herds bring me now and then a loaf of 
bread and a flask of sour wine, for which I 
must pay their weight in gold. Oh, it is a hell 
to live here ! As I stand here before you, I 


PILLONE. 


171 


have for two days long eaten nothing, drunk 
nothing. All have forsaken me. I have no 
friend more on earth.” 

‘‘Yet,” I answered, touched by his misery, 
“you have me, and I will furnish you food.” 

He gazed with the eagerness of a child at the 
well-filled basket, which I hastily brought for- 
ward, and said, “ Eccellenza, now the sun rises. 
Pillone descends again into his realm of shadows, 
where the sulphur-spirits rule. Will you honor 
him by accepting at his hands a gift, by way of 
thanks for all your friendliness ? ” « 

I started at these words, for, as he stood there, 
he seemed not to have much to give. He hastily 
threw back his mantle, and drew from an inner 
pocket a small leather purse, whose contents he 
shook carefully into his hands. I looked at him 
in amazement : sapphires, rubies, emeralds, and 
diamonds flashed in the rays of the morning 
sun. 

“ Take this,” he said, selecting an emerald of 
uncommon size and beauty ; “ wear it in memory 
of me ! It is the color of hope ; we will both 
still hope.” 

“A thing of such value I cannot accept,” I 
replied ; “ you can hardly know what it is worth.” 

“Do you take me for a peasant.^” he asked, 


1/2 


PILLONE. 


with a contemptuous expression. I have taken 
these jewels frojn their settings, and keep them 
as resources for future times. The gold I. have 
given to the herdsmen who brought me food, for 
they take these stones for only colored glass. 
Take it, I beg of you. It belonged to the vice- 
roy of Naples ; he needs no emeralds more.” 

He pressed the stoner forcibly into my hand, 
and said, with a faltering voice, Besides, what 
is this stone to the gift you have just bestowed 
upon me ? How often have I not, when fam- 
ishing, in pain, and abandoned, weighed these 
jewels in my hand, and reflected on what pitiful 
objects men set their thoughts and desires. How 
often have I not wished to be able to exchange 
such a ruby for a single small bunch of grapes, 
an emerald for a cucumber, the stony water of 
this diamond for a draught from the flowing 
mountain spring. Farewell, Eccellenza ! You 
must keep it, and may it bring you good for- 
tune !” 

He took the basket, hung it on his arm, and 
stepped to the edge of the crater. I caught the 
corner of his mantle and said, holding him back, 
Pillone, tell me yet one thing in parting. What 
do you propose to do ? If you are so happy as 
to escape from this perilous abode, will you give 


PILLONE. 


173 


up your aims, and return to the bosom of the 
society that has cast you out 
m He gazed at me and said, with haughty mien, 
while he pointed out over the gulf, where the 
windows of the great city began to sparkle in 
the rising sun,* Eccellenza, do you see what lies 
out there? It is society — that society which 
has thrust me out as a pariah. Do you think 
that it would ever receive me again, or that I 
will return to it humbly, to receive, as a special 
favor, the permission to pull an oar upon the 
galleys ? I know this city with its rudeness, its 
avarice, its commonness, and its vicious corrup- 
tion. I look on this society as a community of 
sharpers, too cowardly to rob, too calculating to 
steal, and who therefore content themselves with 
cheating each other, law in hand ; but when I 
stand here and look over to this ant-hill of men, 
of whom each one would fall trembling on his 
knees if he met me alone, then I feel myself a 
king. Return ! No, Eccellenza ! ‘ Freedom or 

death,’ that is my motto. The stone that rolls 
down the precipice cannot pause in its plunge, 
it must roll on till it is shattered.” 

But have you not, then, in this dreary soli- 
tude, ever repented aught you have done?” I 
continued. ^ 


174 


PILLONE. 


He gazed gloomily before him and said, point- 
ing over the crater, See, Eccellenza, in this 
depth grew once mighty oak forests ; flowers and 
grass clothed the ground; the herdsmen drove 
their herds down yonder, and sang away their 
sorrows to the sound of the bagpipe. Then the 
forces of the mountain stirred, the verdant groves 
disappeared in the abysses of the earth ; on all 
sides rolled a fiery sea of flame, a fountain of 
seething lava-streams ; and when nature was 
once more at rest, this hollow valley had become 
hard and sterile, full of rigid crystals, which no 
longer gave nourishment to beast or flower. 
So has it fared with niy heart. I repent only 
one thing : that I struck her whom I will not 
name. Her blood has cried to heaven against 
me day and night, and I have repented that I 
ever laid hands on a woman. Do not say more 
to me, or I might stumble. Take a last thanks 
and a last greeting from Pillone.'’ 

He pressed my hand, and grasped the long staff, 
whose charred point betrayed plainly enough the 
perils among which he lived. I followed him 
with my eye while he slowly and cautiously crept 
down the side of the crater, where, enveloped in 
the bluish clouds that brooded below, he soon 
vanished from my sight. Shortly aft^ my guide 


PILLONE. 


175 


came back, and when I told him what I had seen, 
he cried with enthusiasm, “ In truth that was 
Pillone ! He has the lungs of an eagle, and the 
heart of a lion. The sulphur-gatherer and the 
crystal-hunter are able to go down as far as the 
red streak yonder; but Pillone is like a diver in 
the sea, no man knows his ways.'' 

Turminoff rose, emptied his glass, and looked 
out over the edge of the veranda, as he said. 
See how they are working down there on the 
road, and how rarely the red torchlight contrasts 
with the cold, blue sheen of the moon. They 
will have everything ready in time for the morn- 
ing train. Let us, therefore, go to rest. There 
is not much of the night left." 

Next to health and fair weather, nothing is so 
acceptable on a journey as a good traveling 
companion, and Turminoff had all the qualities 
which are requisite to the character. Lively 
and entertaining, and ever in the same bright 
and life-enjoying mood, he also possessed many 
acquirements, as well as a perfect familiarity 
with the topography of Naples and its envi- 
rons. We roamed about, therefore, the whole 
summer with each other, and visited all remark- 
able points which this pearl of the gulf has to 


176 


PILLONE. 


show. Toward autumn we came again to Naples, 
and Turminoff proposed to apply the last day of 
our stay to a visit to San Elmo, in order thence 
^once more to say farewell to all these splendors, 
ere we turned back to Rome's churches and 
ruins. 

It was still before sunrise on an autumn morn- 
ing, fresh with dew, as our asses trotted at the 
same ambling pace up the steep street leading 
to San Elmo. All was wonderfully still and 
silent. The lazzaroni slept here and there, in 
groups, with their baskets on their heads; the 
dealers in fruit had not yet opened their stalls ; 
and only the water sellers announced, by their 
monotonous call, the approach of day. Up 
yonder, on the old fort, all still lay in deep quiet ; 
only the measured tread of the guards and a 
single bugle-call interrupted the twilight still- 
ness of the morning. Turminoff opened his 
portfolio, and set up his easel, to make a hasty 
sketch of Vesuvius, when the sun should come 
forth; and I took a book, in order, as was our 
wont, to read aloud to him, while he painted. 

Suddenly, just as the first dazzling sunbeams 
shot forth from behind the cloud-enveloped hills, 
there sounded from the inner court of the fort 
three short trumpet-p^als, and at the same time 


PILLONE. 


177 


a church bell in the nearest convent began to 
toll with a dull, monotonous stroke. It was a 
funeral-bell, the same which all over Italy is 
tolled at funeral processions; but at Naples, the 
dead are buried only at evening — and Turminoff 
looked at me inquiringly. 

We were not to remain long in uncertainty. 
From the inner court of the prison, through the 
dark gate, there came toward us a mournful pro- 
cession. In the midst of a file of bersaglieri, 
whose polished rifle-barrels gleamed in the- sun, 
walked a tall, slender man, with a beard sprinkled 
with grey, and a proudly-carried head. He was 
bound hand and foot, and two Capuchin monks 
from the neighboring convent walked beside 
him, while they now and then raised the image 
of the crucified before him and murmured a few 
words in his ear. The little platoon was preceded 
by a couple of trumpeters, and two ambulance 
bearers closed the procession, who bore between 
them a simple coffin .upon a bier. Turminoff 
had risen ; he was pale as the morning, mist 
which hung over the city, and as the train 
approached, he uncovered his head. At the 
same moment I heard the prisoner utter a cry ; 
a short halt occurred, and presently, one of, the 
officers stepped up to us and requested Turminoff 
23 


178 


PILLONE. 


to follow him. I stared wondering after him, for 
I did .not yet rightly comprehend what this 
strange intimation portended. I saw the soldiers 
form a circle around him who was condemned to 
death. Turminoff entered it, and the prisoner 
took off his hat and stretched out his shackled 
hands to him. They spoke a moment together, 
then Turminoff came back with a little silver 
medallion in his hand. 

‘‘It was Pillone,” said he, with faltering voice. 
“My God, that I should meet him thus!’* He 
hastily put up the little medallion, and said, as 
he gazed after the procession, which was advanc- 
ing slowly down toward the inner dry ditch of 
the fort, “ Let us make haste. Here a catastro- 
phe is at hand.” I helped him gather up his 
apparatus and shut up the unfinished sketch in 
the portfolio. As we were on the point of with- 
drawing, we heard the iron gate of the escarp 
close with a groaning sound, and the sad proces- 
sion vanished from our sight. Turminoff drew 
a deep breath and said : “ Poor wretch I for he 
had a heart. He did not wish that the image, be- 
fore which he had said his first childish prayers, 
should fall into strange hands : I am to keep it 
as a relic.” ■ 

Hardly had he said these words, when there 


PILLONE. 


J 

179 

sounded a short trumpet-flourish, and almost 
simultaneously the rattle of a fusilade. The 
smoke of the powder rolled up in a white cloud 
from the inner ditch of the fort; the swallows, 
with shrill cries, turned aside in their flight and 
rose high in air — then all was still as death. 

‘‘Now is Pillone's dream fulfilled,'' I said. 

“Yes," answered Turminoff, “let us hope that 
he will wake to a life where the demons of hate 
and revenge will no more have power." • 




THE END. 





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